


Where My Demons Hide

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Blood and Gore, Bondage and Discipline, Cannibalism, Demonic Possession, Drugs, Exorcisms, Haunted Item, M/M, Murder, Muteness, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Restraints, Sacrifice, Self-Mutilation, Sins, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: When Rook discovers an interesting antique Mask in a prepper stash, he assumes it's just another curiosity with no real harm behind it. Just another abandoned item left to the swells of time. He takes it, deciding to add it to the rest of his collection, unaware that the mask has dangerous attachments and Rook is thrown into the middle of a string of gruesome murders and rumors. Unknowing that the mask is at the center of a far more religious and problematic catastrophe not foreseen by the Father with unlikely saviors rising to his rescue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I was kicking around and I'm not really sure if I'll continue it or not. That's up to you guys. If I get a good enough response, I'll continue it. But right now it's kind of up in the air. I hope you guys enjoy it. Please leave comments and kudos below on what you think.

“That thing is creepy as fuck, you know that?” Nick was the first to point it out when the deputy left a prepper stash holding a very old antique mask. It was solid white and resembled the theater muse masks of sorrow and joy only this one’s face showed neither. It was something more lethal in a way, almost malicious or villainous. Rook didn’t see any problem with it as he lifted the mask to his face and peered through the slits for the eyes, holding his free hand up in a menacing display of mock claws as he growled at the pilot. Nick cocked a smile and shook his head, giving a dismissive wave towards his companion. “You have the weirdest tastes.”

 

Rook simply smiled, tucking the masked away into the safety of his bag along with a handful of other strange and somewhat morbid items. He had crows feathers and wolf’s teeth, he had cougar claws and different kinds of dried plants he was keeping in a mason jar. It looked like a wiccan stash if he was being honest but Rook just liked odd items. He also had an appreciation for the simple man made items such as a dream catcher he picked up at one point which hung above his cot and a cord of hand made wooden beads that resembled prayer beads in a way, supposedly meant to keep away evil. At least that’s what a rebel had told him when they parted ways after working together for two weeks straight. It was considered a farewell gift to keep the deputy safe from harm, something to always be worn on his wrist at all times. Rook was afraid of it falling off or getting broken so he kept it in his pocket for safe keeping instead. He figured this mask would just add another notch to his strange and growing collection.

 

He looked up and followed Nick back to their truck where Grace sat quietly on top of the filched Eden’s Gate vehicle with her rifle at the ready encase trouble came rolling up. It was cloudy, a dim gray haze with a big chance of thunderstorms rolling in so for the time being, Nick was grounded and exchanged his piloting to just driving the truck around for them. Air or ground, Nick was one hell of a hand behind the wheel and Rook could trust him to keep his cool under gunfire while he and Grace dealt with any issues. Luckily, they had none arise as they made their way back to Fall’s End. They had been out patrolling the roads for some time that day but the dull weather seemed to keep everyone indoors for the time being. They didn’t run into any peggies and had checked out a couple different abandoned prepper stashes which Rook promptly crossed off his map.

 

It was one he picked up from one of the Ranger’s stations, more up to date on the finer details of the county and with a collection of colored sharpies, he marked important spots on the map to check out later. He updated some new information to check out another time and looked over the rest of his marker points with a soft hum of thought. Grace was sitting in the backseat, resting partially between the two front passenger seats as she watched what Rook was doing. “Whatcha thinking about, deputy?” She asked, looking over the separated regions. Rook had outlined each dictated area with a highlighter that pinpointed where one Herald’s control started and another’s ended.

 

Rook tapped a blue sharpie on the map, pointing towards Faith’s region but the conflict in his features was hard. They had done a decent amount of damage in the Holland Valley already and John was getting pissed enough to start some real trouble in retaliation. Rook had brought it up before, concerned about leaving the region with John this upset over his actions but then again, he also wanted to leave to give the baptist some time to calm down and not blow a gasket along with everything else in the surrounding vicinity. He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip in contemplation. “Well, what about Jacob’s region? I’m sure the whitetails could use some help up there.” Nick offered.

 

Rook looked up, catching a glimpse from the pilot over his sunglasses. He sighed and nodded in agreement, folding his map back up to tuck inside his pack. His eyes roamed over the white mask just inside, giving it a cautious nudge with his fingertips as he inspected it again. There was something just so tantalizing about it. The way the face was made, the expression carved into the smoothed wood. It looked relatively untouched but at the same time, it looked fragile and ancient, as if time itself had been the only caretaker of its presence. There was no inscriptions on it, no symbols to state who the craftsman of the piece was or where it was from originally. His inspection faltered with a quiet yawn. Grace nudged his shoulder thoughtfully before resting back into the seat, leaving the deputy to nestle into the side of the door and watch the farms and fields pass them by.

  
  
  


Rook assumed it had to do with the weather, the dark and dreary feel always made him sleepy and he noticed he wasn’t the only one feeling it. The Spread Eagle was practically empty, the only patrons present were picking at their drinks and propped up on one elbow. The usual rowdiness was surprisingly absent. Nick and Grace plopped down into their usual spots at the bar and called for a couple drinks. Rook waved it off when Mary May looked to him, gesturing with an empty cup. He thumbed over his shoulder, a silent gesture that he was going to head back to his room to get some rest. Nick and Grace raised a glass to him in farewell and continued like their usual.

 

He made a nice little spot in the back of one of the abandoned buildings. The original owner was killed during the battle to reclaim Fall’s End from John’s faithful but Pastor Jerome and Mary May helped gather enough supplies to turn it into a makeshift lodging for people passing through. Rook has his own little space in the back office with a key to get in and out so he could have some privacy and peace and quiet. Today there was only one other person sleeping out front so he easily snuck in, passing through quietly while two others sat around on the floor, playing cards on milk crates. They waved at him as he passed, greeting him with soft smiles and subtle nods before he slipped through the back office door. There was a single window in the back which he liked to keep cracked just enough to allow fresh air in and out of the room. A cot was set up in the corner and a side table was brought in where he could sit and clean his guns at. The walls had small ornaments and items hanging from them, a book shelf was off to the side with the rest of his special little keepsakes lining it like the back cabinets of a middle school biology room.

 

All kinds of animal parts and pelts were laid out, carefully preserved and treated by Rook himself. There were bundles of dried plants placed in between, giving it a less morbid appearance. The deputy sighed, sinking down onto the cot as he pulled his jacket off and left it resting in a pile of neatly folded clothes stacked in an office chair. His bag was hung on the back of the chair, the mask peeking out at him through the open zipper, catching his attention as he started pulling his boots off. He stopped, resting them beside the cot as he pushed up and retrieved the item from the pack, giving it another curious once over as he considered where to put it in his collection. The slow rumble of thunder drew his attention back towards his window, lightning cracked across the sky as he set the mask down on the side table and rushed to close the window before the rain had a chance to make it through the opening.

 

He sighed and plopped back down onto the cot before stretching out comfortably. It wasn’t much at first. It was always uncomfortable and he had a hard time getting to sleep but now his cot felt like home away from home and was just as good as any fancy King bed. He tugged the blanket up to his waist and released a long slow deep breath as he sank back into the canvas stretched beneath him.

  
  
  
  


_There was a flurry of movement. A blur of silver cast in the shades of red, spilling over the veil of serenity. A shriek broke through the silence like shattered glass, the cold stillness of the night caressing the scene in grave-like silks of moonlight breaking through the cloud coverage. The world toppled as flames licked across the wooden boards, red burned away as limp dolls were hoisted up, tacked like upside down idols, eviscerated and bulging with protrusions. Stones jammed into twisting organs, chests heaving as flesh is ripped from bone, the screams are deafening, blotted out only by the rolling thunder exploding across the sky. The pelting of rain cleansing the threshold as light cast over the room, the walls quake as if God’s wrath itself was being cast upon the earth._

 

_Diligent blades cradle flesh, carving and cutting with careful strokes, skilled and knowing as blood bubbles up from pleading lips. The scores of burnt flesh curling into the air with soft smoky tendrils, a sulfuric tinge staining the air like a heavy fog, dispersing around the sacred altar of mankind’s justifications.  As quickly as the attack happened, it ended. The dark figure vanishing in a flash of silver and twisted white features, a malicious cackle rumbling in the night air as the scream of innocents punctuate the stale silence._

  
  


The heavy thud of a curled fist beat against the thick aged wood of the office door, stirring Rook from the blanket of sleep induced fog that clouded his mind. He groaned, feeling a bone deep ache strike throughout his body as hands pushed himself up, fingers curling into the dusty floor boards, the cot a good foot away with blanket fallen off the edge. He cursed, looking around the cramped space of the office in confusion as he crawled towards the door and flicked the lock to allow entry, it opened cautiously as a sunglasses clad face framed by a head of unruly brown locks peered in. Nick gave the deputy a long confused look, head tilting towards the absence from the bed and the rumpled mess of the deputy’s appearance. “Rough night?” He asked, taking a step in as Rook scooted across the floor so his back was leaned against the cot.

 

Rook stretched his arms above his head with a groan, the slight pop of his back and shoulders drew unwanted protests from the stiff muscles coiled around them. He sighed, rubbing at his weary eyes, feeling as if he hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep all night. He shrugged at Nick’s concerned expression, giving him a half hearted smile of greeting as he continued. “Mary sent me over to get you. She’s got breakfast waiting. Grace is already over there so you better hurry if you want some.” Rook nodded, giving a lazy wave of his hand as he searched the mess of his floor for his boots, finding them knocked under the cot and shoving his feet into each one.

 

A quick lace up and he was on his feet, Nick already holding his jacket out to him and his bag from the back of the chair. He fiddled with the strap until it was comfortable, grabbing his bow from the table and adjusting the holster to his hip, he did one last once over before heading out, checking the contents of his bag to ensure his ammo, pausing only briefly at the sight of that twisted smile of pearly white staring up at him from within his pack. He made a sound of confusion, looking towards the empty side table for a minute before looking back and shrugging it off as being forgetful. Nick gave him another look of concern but it faded as Rook started out the office, waiting for Nick to follow him before locking up and heading out for their mission of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter. It took a little bit longer then expected but I was jumping between dying laptop to dying phone and back to work on it. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it. As always, please leave comments and kudos down below. I'd really appreciate some feedback on what you guys think about the content so far. Thank you all so much for the support so far on this piece. It means a lot to me.

Their mission of the day was put on hold as a new issue arose. Father Jerome met Rook at the Spread Eagle and explained the situation that was reported to him early that morning. A murder had been committed at the Lamb of God church and didn't appear to be related to Eden’s Gate or any of their people. He requested that Rook at least go check it out to see since he had more than enough experience with Eden’s Gate’s atrocities. He agreed, finished his breakfast up and before long, they were off to the church. Grace was already fuming, fretting over the memorials that had been threatened by the peggies more than once but was relieved when they pulled in and found they were untouched. 

 

From the outside, it looked normal as if nothing had really happened. On the inside though, it was like walking into a horror film and that was saying something considering they were living in a pre-apocalypse. There was blood staining the floors, splattered across the pews with markings written in between the gruesome paintings. There was scorch marks on the altar where a fire had been resting, charred bits of wooden furniture was used to etch burns across the body in thick black curls and jagged lines. The body was of a Caucasian man, positioned in an upside down pose like the hangman tarot card, laid out across the worn stained wood floors before the podium and between the spread empty pews. He was naked, black scorch marks surrounded his wrists and ankles accompanied by mass bruising as if he had been restrained in some way. His torso was carved with intricate lines at the end of a sharp knife, creating pockets between flesh where stones had been pressed inside, rough and jagged rocks, tinged with the same soot from the fire. The acrid stench of burnt flesh and feces mingled with something more uncommon. Almost rotting but not in the way one might find a body, it lingered, more akin to spoiled food if anything else. Sour like bile. 

 

Rigamortis had only recently set in, Rook noted the stiffness of the body and where the blood had pooled and dispersed. What little he knew from his days at the academy and personal experience, the man had still been alive when this was done to him. As he approached the body, using his gloved fingers he examined what he had at first assumed to just be crusted blood and bruising. It turned out that the man’s eyes and tongue had been carved expertly out of his head. Neither were anywhere to be found at the scene.

 

Behind him, he could hear Grace and Nick struggling to keep their ground. Grace had her face covered by her bandana to block out some of the smell while Nick’s face was buried into the back of his hand. He gagged, clearing his throat a few times and looked away as the deputy inspected the body. “Christ almighty.” He cursed. “No God fearin man could do such a thing.” 

 

“That's for sure.” Grace agreed, giving a shake of her head. “What are all those weird ass markings?” Rook shrugged in response, withdrawing a hand, he removed his soiled gloves and took a few photos using an old cellphone he picked up after his first run in with Eden’s Gate. His own got ruined after they went off the bridge and into the water. He mostly used it for texting and writing complex responses in. If anyone needed to get a hold of him immediately, they all had his radio channel. Even people he'd much rather not. A dozen or so photographs of the scene later, he sent individual photos of the markings to Father Jerome for a second opinion but so far, it looked like a ritualistic killing. He sighed, shaking his head as he tucked his phone away. ‘ _ There are enough religious nutjobs around here.’  _

 

With the scene documented, the trio left and let Jerome’s volunteers take over to bury the body. They already had a spot picked out in the cemetery for him to be placed. One of the volunteers stood by expectantly with shovel in hand and a hole in the earth. As they were climbing into the truck to head off towards Jacob’s territory,Rook got a text back. 

  
  
  


**_Jerome_ ** :

 

_ If I had to say, it looks demonic. A satanic ritual maybe? I'll have to look deeper but it'll take some time. _

  
  


**_Deputy_ ** :

 

_ Alright. Thanks Father. _

  
  


**_Jerome_ ** :

 

_ Be careful deputy. This might not be an isolated incident. The person who did this is a very troubled individual. _

  
  
  
  


Rook couldn't help the snort that left him at the warning text. It was obvious enough that the perpetrator was deranged but so was more than half of Hope County. He didn't need a refresher course on  _ Criminal Behavior 101 _ . Nick gave a questioning grunt to which Rook shared the texts with him and Grace. 

 

“Great. First we got Eden’s Gate and now we have Satanic worshipers to deal with. Am I missing the memo that the whole county is now a magnet for glorified fanatics?” He grumbled sourly. “All this talk of the Collapse and now demons.” 

 

Grace chuckled as Rook raised his hands to simulate demon horns with his fingers and made a face at Nick, sticking his tongue out. Nick gave a dry laugh and shook his head as they headed for the main road. His fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel until he finally caved in and turned on some tunes. They lucked out, coming across a stash of CD’s, mostly country or classic rock. Nick had Rook pop one in and they listened to someone’s old playlist of Hank,Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash among other country legends. 

 

Rook yawned and relaxed back into his seat, his hands resting in his lap as he gazed out at the passing fields and farms,watching as they slowly transitioned to thicker forests and the shimmering waters of lakes and streams. The rocky slopes and hills rising to distant peaks as they approached Whitetail country. The day was still downcast and dreary, making that same old sleepy temptation bubble up inside him. The roads were quiet again but he didn't dare close his eyes for some shut eye. Instead just focusing on the music and the faded old lyrics of the songs.

  
  
  
  


 

Jacob had received several reports of the Deputy being spotted in the area of the Whitetail mountains. He had his companions with him, successfully destroying one of his wolf beacons and saving multiple members of Eli’s men in the process. He was already deeply agitated already, prepared to send a convoy out to pick up the problematic officer when another report came in. He had been so wound up fretting over the Deputy for the past week, that he had overlooked the recent check in protocols. Three of his Chosen had gone missing, each patrolling a different area of the mountains but decently close to Whitetail militia territory. The newest reports informed him that their bodies had been discovered, each in a different location and state of decay. The freshest one wasn’t very far from his current location. He sighed, climbed up into his truck and went out with a couple of his Chosen in tow. 

 

It was at a Ranger’s Station up in the hills, not too far from where they had been holding some of the militia members. There was only one body present, stripped down of all it’s clothing, the only telling mark of them being a Chosen was the fact Jacob had memorized all the faces of those serving under him. He couldn’t recall the name off the top of his head, but he knew this man, had him under his guidance for four months now. He was one of his best, sharp of mind and quick under pressure. He had survived the trials unquestioningly like many of his Chosen. To say the least, he had more than proved himself worthy of the title. 

 

It seemed all for naught now, looking over the body prostrated across the countertop of a concierge desk, his hands nailed into the surface, chest cut open exposing a heart with three rusty nails protruding through it. His eyes and tongue were carved out, several teeth were missing and there was bruising across the side of his face that appeared to have happened during the attack. The nails to the heart seemed like an obvious sign of death. There were marks around the neck, rope burn with coarse fibers leaving slivers in the skin, like binder twine or maybe marina rope. The wrists and ankles had been bound at one point with the same kind of rope. The feet had been tied down to prevent a struggle, the ankles were rubbed raw and there were nails driven into the wood, splitting it with more of the rope fibers caught around the protrusions. 

 

The skin was scored in dark markings of evil descent. Jacob recognized a handful only vaguely from their life in Georgia. It wasn’t all that common but satanic or darker worship wasn’t unheard of, especially in highly religious communities where oppressed teenagers with overbearing parents used religion to rebel against their families ways of life. He gritted his teeth and growled in frustration, seeing this as a sign of mockery towards the Father. Needless to say, he felt that Eli’s people may have a hand in this one. 

 

As they left the scene, he was handed recently updated reports with photo documentation of the other scenes. One was at an outpost, there were multiple Eden’s Gate troops stations within but not a single one of them heard the commotion or saw anything out of the ordinary. This one had been strung up like a deer to be gutted, their hands raised above their head, tied together as if they were praying to the Lord, their head tipped back and mouth pried open with nails driven up into the skull, tongue and eyes missing once again, just empty blood sockets and face contorted into a scream. The throat had been slit this time around, their chest carved open and entrails missing. Another photo showed them strew across the floor to depict a satanic circle, the blood used to write across the floor in scrawled messages and symbols. There was a little note at the bottom of the report that there were strange scents present, more than just the usual scent of feces and decay that accompanied dead bodies in the summer heat. If Eden’s Gate people knew one thing, it’s how the scene of a corpse should smell and it was made mention that both sites had an usual scent to it that nobody could quite place. Like something had been spoiled, something sour and rotting. They wondered if it was maybe a calling card or a clue so they added it in. 

 

The third scene was much the same, same note at the bottom. The body was another chosen, this one tied up in a mockery of prayer, legs bound beneath them, their knees had been shattered by a sledgehammer that was left at the scene. Eyes and tongue missing, but this time the mouth was nailed shut. There was a sign of struggle, the same rope that Jacob had seen fibers of left behind was used to tie the body of the third victim in place. This person had been left in a cabin just outside one of the camps they were occupying for Judge training. They were still alive when found but died soon after. It appeared they had been that way for more than a day. The floor was marked up the with the same symbols as the other two scenes. Jacob crumpled the pages in his grasp before storming out of the building, barking a few orders to his men to clean the mess up.

  
  
  
  
  


Rook had been in Jacob’s territory for a little over a week and he noticed the peggies were especially antsy lately. They were swarming the roads in droves, stranding him deeper into the soldier’s territory as he attempted on several different occasions to leave. At one point, Grace and Nick had gotten separated from him when a bunch of peggies ambushed him, forcing him to flee deeper into the wilds while they made a break for the edge of John’s territory. Nick radioed he would come back with his plane to give the deputy some cover but that was two days ago and he was growing worried. Late in the night he scrambled up into a hunter’s stand, each step was shaky with a mixture of exhaustion and his own paranoid fear of heights. He would never go any higher then this and god forbid he end up on one of those insane ziplines. No matter how persuasive Hurk and Sharky are, he won’t touch a single one of them. He’s trek the long way around if he has to. 

 

It could have been worse though. He woke up the next morning, more exhausted and now extremely stiff and sore in places he didn’t think possible, cursing the discomfort of the hard metal base of the perch. The weather was still the dreary gray it had been for days, only allowing brief appearances of sunlight long enough to warm the land and offer way too much humidity for his liking. His clothes were slept in and worn longer than necessary, sticking to him like a stained second skin. He had blood splattered all over him, so much so he couldn’t tell half the time what was his own and what was from the dead peggies or wild animals.

 

He gave up trying  and started gathering his things, already begging the universe for a hot breakfast and a cup of coffee. He sat down with his back against the tree as he digs out his radio and phone from the bag, stopping briefly to admire the mask nestled within. A smile of fondness plucks at the corners of his mouth. For some odd reason, this little antique has proven to be his most favorite and all he’s done is carry it around but something about the depth of detail in the face has captured his attention and he can’t sway the feelings it stirs up inside him, like curling ball of contentment and excitement. It leaves him feeling satisfied as his fingertips brush across the cheek of the mask as if he somehow contributed to its creation by keeping its presence at his side. He brushed it off as the insanity of the world around him finally catching up. 

 

He frowned at the phone, noticing over two dozen missed calls. They ranged from Father Jerome to Grace to Nick. There was one or two from Sharky and Hurk, mostly with fumbled up and drunken voicemails to mingle between all the other concerned messages left by his companions. He had a handful of texts from Nick requesting his location so they could help bring him back home. His frown deepened when the messages were two days old. There was no way that could be, he swore he had just checked the notifications the night before when he climbed up into this infernal perch to get some predator and peggie free sleep. 

 

He shook the thought away, double checked his location on the maps, giving his compass a second look over and texted back to Nick with an apology for being late. He received a relieved response from Nick followed by a bit more concern with an inquiry of his status. A few minutes of consoling the pilot that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, he set his phone aside and sighed. It beeped again, drawing his attention as a red icon popped up in the corner alerting him to the dying battery charge.  _ ‘Just great.’  _ He huffed and stuffed his belongings into his bag. He had an hour hike towards a plateau to wait for Nick to come and pick him up. It was his least favorite mode of transportation but the only chance he had of getting back to Fall’s End in one piece. 


	3. Chapter 3

_The thunder cracked and rolled across the sky, giving light to the atrocities within. A body of twisted proportions spiraling up like a serpent around a post. The heavy beat of a nail driven further into the wood like gunshots in the silence. The metallic tinge discerning a delectable bouquet of coppery tones, painting murals of treachery and truths across weather beaten wood boards. Ivory links twinkle like star light in the caverns of flesh, protruding from the broken spire, jutting out like pearls stretched across earthy tones and jagged nooks. They burrow back inside where safety is promised but decay lingers, rife along the edges, festering infections and blistering rot. Another nail is driven in place, the banging of the hammer like a gavel of judgement in the stark solitude of night…_

  


“Hey, Deputy!” The twisting drawl of proper and country rises in the crisp morning air. A chill curls into the room from the open window, dancing across Rook’s bare skin. The knuckles rap at the door once more, met with inevitable silence as a pair of sunglass hidden eyes peer through, parting the door from the frame to ensure their companion is in fact present. Nick gave a curious glance, taking note of the man in question stretched across the broken down cot. His chest was bare, burdened by the scars of his actions and all the run ins with the Seed family and their army of true believers.

 

A pair of jeans was the only coverage, knees ripped and frayed exposing scabbed over skin, roughed up and scarred. His bare feet pressed on the wooden boards as Rook pushed himself upright, fingers carding through messy slept in hair as he huffed another weary sigh. He felt like he hasn't been getting any sleep in weeks. No matter how much he gets, he sleeps like the dead and for hours on end and yet he's still so exhausted. “You look terrible. You feelin' alright?” Nick inquired, shifting Rook’s belongings from the chair to the empty space on the table as he sat down. Rook’s bow was resting on one side of the table next to two damaged arrows, their fletchings torn and in the process of being fixed. One arrow was a lost cause but he was salvaging parts from it that could be used for later repairs on others.

 

Rook reached for a clean shirt off the top of the pile, plucking up a red flannel button up and slipping it over his shoulders. He groaned, his body ached and protested. His skin marked up with bruises on near every inch of his form. It wasn't uncommon. He couldn't remember a day that he wasn't sore and hurting since Eden’s Gate tried to end life as they know it.

 

He lifted his head as fingers fumbled over the buttons, hands stiff from the morning cold. His gaze met Nick’s worried expression. He gave a tired smile and a shrug. It didn't seem to sooth his concerned look. “I know you don't like to talk and such, but just know if you need somebody to lean on, I'm always happy to help. You've done more than enough around here for folks. You shouldn't have to push yourself to the point of burnin out.”

 

Rook met the reminder with a more genuine smile, nodding his quiet understanding. He reached out and patted Nick’s knee in a gesture of reassurance, the only part of him that he could reach comfortably without getting up or flipping the cot. It took a while for Nick to get used to the Deputy’s quiet nature. The way he never spoke but always made up for it with subtle gestures and expressions. The pilot got a lot better at understanding and recognizing the little hints and cues through Rook’s unique style of communication. Not just with the Deputy but with those around him. Something his wife has grown to appreciate as well. Other companions of Rook’s have learned to understand his way of communicating to the point it's become second nature for all of them now, but they still reminisce and laugh about how dumbfounded and confused they all were in the beginning. In a way, it made them all grow a lot closer in that regard.

 

Rook sat up, hand rising to cover his mouth as he coughed a few times. He cleared his throat, rubbing at it sorely, feeling a raw itch deep inside. He frowned, cursing the fact he left the window open again to which Nick seemed to pick up on. “Man, you're going to catch your death if you keep this up.” He chastised as he got up and closed the window, giving it a hard shove in the rotting frame, letting out a grunt before it gave in and slammed shut. Rook grunted as he pulled his socks from the inside of his boots and finished up getting dressed.

 

On their way out, Rook locked up his room as per usual, tucking the key down inside his shirt as he adjusted the strap of his bag around his sore shoulders. Nick trailed beside him, starting to speak when they were cut off by one of the rebels in town running up to them. “Deputy!” The pair stopped in their tracks, Rook blinking wearily at the young man who approached, looking no older than early college years. He was clad in jeans and a hoodie, a Cougar baseball cap atop his head as he waved them along. Rook vaguely remembered him as one of Father Jerome’s people which was confirmed as they were led back to the Fall’s End church.

 

Rook offered another cough, clearing his throat as they entered the quiet little church on the corner. It was still trashed from the peggies, turned into a makeshift bunk house with sleeping bags and old mattresses tossed around the room, younger folks from the Father's old flock gathered to find safety within the once hallowed halls.  The man in question was waiting for them, sitting by the altar with his bible in hand, dark eyes raised to greet them with concern. “Deputy. Nick.” He nodded to each of them as he continued. “There's been another murder. On the border, just crossing into the Henbane.”

 

He waved them over as one of the youth stood up and brought over an old laptop. On it were a handful of photos one of their people had taken on site. Rook recognized it only by the shaved head that the victim was one of Faith’s angels. This time they were pinned up outdoors, looking like they were nailed to a post near a peggie checkpoint. Their hands pinned together, arms wrapped around to the back of the post where the palms were pressed flat to the wood. The eyes were carved out as was the tongue, a continuous pattern so far. The feet were pinned to the base as well, keeping the body up off the found, the torso was carved up so the rib cage was broken open and expanded out like mock angel wings, the lungs were brought out to hang out in the open at the back. The strip of skin that covered the spine was cut away like the back strap from a buck, exposing the white of the spinal column,

 

The markings and symbols were carved all across the body this time, the ground was spattered with blood and some of the entrails were already spilling out and picked over by the crows before it was discovered. Rook recognized the pose from history books as a viking form of torture known as the Bloody Angel. It felt befitting in a way of mockery aimed directly towards Faith herself. Which from some of the messages that passed between the two rebels, Faith wasn’t at all happy with this incident. “So, it appears we have a serial killer.” Father Jerome stated once they reached the end of the photos. Rook scrubbed at his tired face, groaning softly as he shook his head. As if things weren’t hard enough, the universe had to throw another monkey wrench in the cogs of his life and this one wasn’t at all discriminating between good and bad guys.

 

After the impromptu meeting at the church, Rook and Nick went over to the bay on the edge of John and Jacob’s territory to drop a few lines in the water and just decompress. Nick didn’t ask any questions, just quietly watching Boomer rut around in the brush and chase the birds that settled in the shocks of cattails. This wasn’t the first time the deputy was feeling overwhelmed by everything going on and just clocked out for a few hours to do some well deserved fishing. Everything was still going to be blowing up and people were still going to be killing each other when he got back but the peace and quiet of the bay was all that he needed, if only for a few hours.

 

The universe had allowed that, but only about two and a half hours in, a boat full of pissed off peggies crossed his sights, bringing an abrupt end to his trip and causing the three of them to scatter along the bank for cover. Rook fired off an arrow into the shoulder of one peggie, nailing the heart while the driver of the boat wheeled around and tried to cut them off further down the bank. Boomer barked aggressively along the sides, wanting to get after the assailants but they’re just out of reach. Nick was already rushing back towards the truck to pick Boomer and the Deputy up at the narrow pass of back dirt road up ahead. He sprinted on ahead, hearing more peggies being radioed in, barking orders at each other as the cult diverged on their position. There were choppers in the air searching the woods and ATV’s roaring over the hills and down the main roads.

 

Nick cursed over the radio, barely able to see the Deputy as he raced away from the road, trailing the angry peggies after him and away from the pilot. Boomer followed but only for a short while before Rook sent him away with a sharp whistle. The canine bounded back to the road where he jumped up in the bed of the truck, a signal from Rook to leave him behind and run for safety. It was a hard order to follow but Nick had faith in the deputy and did as he was told.

 

Rook ran as fast and as far as he could, taking the thickest and hardest routes through the woods ducking behind trees and diving behind bushes, narrowly avoiding patrolling peggies. He’d wait for a clearing and race on ahead again, repeating this pattern two more times before he misjudged the opening and stepped right out in front of a pair of red masked Chosen. A well aimed Bliss arrow hit his thigh, burrowing just skin deep, delivering the right dose to bring him to his knees in dizzying waves. Nausea and the bitter sweet taste of bliss coated his tongue, his body became sluggish and heavy, fighting it for every second until it all came crashing down around him in a dark haze.

  
  


Rook wasn’t exactly thrilled to wake up in Jacob’s presence. The first time around was jarring and left him miserably for weeks just trying to get back to certain level of functionality. The second time around was almost tolerable. He was being starved in a cage and left outside, exposed to the elements of the cramped and crowded courtyard. The infernal music playing softly from a distance, always keeping him under that tainted lull of Jacob’s command. The only positive came in some twisted fashion, that he managed to sleep better in the soldier’s presence. In fact, he felt as if he had caught up on all the missed sleep he’d been lacking the last couple weeks though he could go without the seemingly endless bouts of starvation. The knotting pain of hunger curling up on his insides and the dizziness that followed moving too quickly or suddenly.

 

Jacob noticed that the deputy didn’t seem to speak much or interact with the other prisoners. He didn’t call out to them or ask for information like many others had in the past. There was a mixture of Eli’s whitetails and some civilians picked up around the county, all crammed into cages and starved like the rest. Any sign of food had them clinging to the bars, scrambling and scrapping among each other for the slightest morsels but the deputy never once budged for food. He only watched through sympathetic eyes, his expression far more readable then it had any right to be but he never once spoke. Jacob had attempted conversation with the man, testing a whim that had started from the first time he picked the officer up. He had heard rumors from his youngest brother that the deputy wasn’t the speaking type but he simply assumed it was a personal agenda against John that brought it about.

 

When Jacob took him aside and spoke to him more directly, the deputy locked in a smaller cage alone and Jacob resting in a chair just outside the bars, he noticed the subtle motions of his body. The quiet movements that answered unspoken questions. He recognized it from others like the man, men and women who were driven into silence by traumas or disabilities. Soldiers and civilians alike. The way they learned to use their bodies in conversation more than anything else. The way eye contact had become something of a life line between them and others, the way the deputy would keep theirs locked with his own. It was startling at first, when blue pools feel upon the lawman and found them gazing back up at him. Most of his captives wouldn’t dare meet his stare, hell, a majority of his own men wouldn’t attempt such a feat but the deputy always kept it, never flinching or averting their gaze, no matter what Jacob did. He tested that determination, fingers closing around Rook’s throat, a tight squeeze that threatened suffocation. He watched the man clear his throat, heard the hitch in his breathing as he tried to accommodate the pressure but those eyes never changed their direction. Always staring back at him, almost unnerving in a way. _Knowing._

 

The deputy continued to surprise and impress him as they carried out one trial after another. He watched the man fight tooth and nail through his ra race of a maze, obediently dispatching one volatile ally after another. Men and women that had pledged themselves to the same cause now dying to kill one another for another breath of air and a bite of food. The deputy wasn’t like them, he was efficient, the perfect soldier hammered out by the consequences of his circumstances. Molded by hardships few could possibly understand yet there was something more. It took Jacob a long time to figure it out before he realized the man still held his humanity. All the others were reduced to animals by days of hunger and distress, put under the pressure and threat of dying in a cage. The deputy never really responded to his surroundings and if Jacob didn’t know any better, he’d say he was thriving here. It was a thought that send chills down his spine, a twisted turn of events that should have been satisfying.

 

Two weeks of captivity had gone by before Rook had been released from Jacob’s training and sent back out into the world to run amok as per usual. Jacob kept a close eye on the man, increasing his security and patrols whenever Rook entered his region. He was almost relieved when the report came in that the deputy had returned to the Holland Valley but something continued to stir beneath the surface, an unnerving sensation as if he had missed something important. It was a nagging feeling that only increased several days later when he awoke to a disturbing surprise in the courtyard of the Veteran’s Center.

  
  


There were over a dozen Chosen present on top of another two dozen lower ranking peggies scouring the courtyard in the night but not a single one had noticed the commotion until the early hours of morning. Jacob was dragged out to the center of the yard where two cages were recently occupied with dead Chosen. Their bodies had been stripped down like the other murder victims, eyes and tongues missing. Their legs and arms were bound to force them into a hands and knees position, tied to the sides of the cages to keep them upright. Their hands were mutilated, fingers cut in a way that made them resemble dog paws, their chests were carved up with the same dark symbols but the most disturbing detail was the fact each was missing a bone from their left forearms. The bone in question had been placed inside their mouths and their lips were nailed closed around it to add to the appearance of dogs begging with a bone. It was a personal message to Jacob that infuriated and perplexed him. There was blood and markings all over the insides of the cages, the sour tinge that was mentioned in the notes was present in the air, just lingering around the scenes, barely holding ground against the slight mountain breeze.

 

The soldier documented the incident and checked in with the other Heralds. He heard of the incident with one of Faith’s angels, had personally visited the site himself to see if it were the same. In the following days he received more reports from both John and Faith that more and more bodies were being found. Two more angels, one of John’s lieutenants, one of Faith’s priestesses and several civilians along the roads that had been kept as hostages awaiting baptism or new members to walk the pilgrimage. Jacob’s sources discovered several dead Whitetail militia members in the wilds done up the same way, always missing the eyes and the tongues and some religious based mockery was posed at each scene. It had gotten so bad that Joseph had heard wind of it and demanded a family meeting at his compound.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is up. Please leave a comment or kudos down below to let me know what you think. Feedback is is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Jacob had brought all of the documentation that he’s collected involving the incidences, all of which filled thick fat manila envelopes, each one categorized and labeled neatly and packed into a file box that sat in the back seat of his truck. He picked up John on the way and Faith was already at the compound waiting for them. Needless to say, the Father was rattled by the documents, seeing the dark markings and symbols scattered throughout the images. His hands were shaking as he brushed through page after page of contents, the mutilation of the bodies, the mockery and poses, the little jabs and jives aimed at Eden’s Gate, the Heralds and Joseph specifically. The Father spent the next three hours ranting and raving and lecturing, mixing it between long silences of prayer and quiet contemplation before he dismissed his Heralds to the far reaches of the county to be on their way while he figured out a plan. Until they can get some idea as to who was behind the incidences.

 

Jacob was uneasy as he drove John back to the Seed ranch. They all were anxious, knowing there was such a killer in the county on top of all the other issues that have been popping up and derailing their years of hard work. Joseph disguises the incident as another test. As God bestowing them with another trial before they reach Eden. As if they are some biblical heroes sent out to vanquish the evils of humanity. Jacob had to admit, he was having a hard enough time wrapping his head around Joseph’s brand of crazy and all of this on top of it was pushing him to his limits.

 

They were just rounding the long drive up to the ranch, John was unusually quiet, gaze fixed out the window when something caught his attention. There was movement near the entrance that wasn’t at all like the normal patrol patterns of his men. There was a flash of red glowing eyes, a blur of white and black melted into the shadows before it darted out into the driveway in front of them. John grabbed at the dashboard as he blurted. “Look out!” Jacob slammed on the brakes but it was too late as a hard thunk hit the front of the truck. The figure slumped to the ground, causing the two brothers to jump out of the truck. Jacob had his gun at the ready, gesturing for John to keep his distance and stay hidden behind the cover of the side of the vehicle. Blue orbs scanned over the collapsed form. It was as still as the dead, body cloaked in black clothing, stained in blood and sticking to their skin in places. Their face was covered by a pristine white mask, cracked down the middle. Jacob nudged the mask off the suspects face, a gasp drawn over his shoulder as John peered around his brother, drawing closer towards the unconscious form of the deputy. There was blood dripping down the center of his face where the mask had been broken, bruising spread across the side of his jaw, in the process of healing and a freshly split lip was present.

 

As Jacob removed the damaged mask, tossing it aside where it broke more completely into two pieces, the deputy’s eyes shot open, wide and startled. He moved to sit up, scrambling back away from the brothers with a dazed expression. His eyes were wild and fearful, looking around quickly in confusion before he buckled over, arms wrapped around his midsection where the truck had clipped him. He gasped, giving a raspy choke that followed multiple hard shuddering coughs. Jacob grasped at the deputy’s shoulder, a firm grip that kept him in one place but it felt unnecessary. He was weak beneath the soldier’s touch, leaning into it more then was probably normal. There was a raucous inside the Ranch, the lights turning on all over inside as guards alerted to a disturbance. John jolted out of his shock as he rushed inside his house to see the cause of the commotion.

 

One of his lieutenants was hanging from the stairwell, carved up and gutted like all the rest of the victims, blood pooling onto the floor with markings scrawled out in messy symbols. Their eyes and tongue missing like always. This one seemed incomplete in a way, it wasn’t as dramatic and gruesome as the others had been but John didn’t care. The red haze surrounded his vision as he stormed back out to the driveway, fingers itching to carve out atonement when Jacob met him part way. The deputy was slumped over, lying on his side, chest rising in slow shallow breaths. In Jacob’s hands were the broken pieces of the mask the deputy was wearing, his features were grievous and rigid, a look that chilled John to the bone. “We need to talk.”

  
  


 

They locked the Deputy up in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Jacob's handiwork complete with Rook’s wrists tied to the bed posts and three guards placed to watch him. A couple peggies already started cleaning up the mess after it had been carefully documented and left John and Jacob alone to speak in the kitchen, the only place John wouldn't have to look at the mess in the stairway. The broken mask was carefully laid out on the table between them like some sort of universal answer. John scowled at the piece and turned away while Jacob leveled a colder stare on his little brother. It was frustrating to him, how John’s own petty anger was keeping him blind from seeing just how serious this situation was. It wasn’t just a _sinner_ causing trouble for them and getting in the way of their plans. There was something much darker at work here and the fact John couldn’t recognize that only made him more furious.

 

“We need to call Joseph.” Jacob said sternly as John paced back and forth in the kitchen, his actions anxious and agitated like a wild animal on the verge of biting the first hand to near it.

 

He turned his gaze towards his oldest brother and hissed out. “Why?” Jacob narrowed his eyes at John, giving his brother a long hard stare that caused the smaller male to turn away and resume his pacing. “I don’t get why we need to keep that defiler around. We can end all of this right here and now.” He pressed, his hands curling into tight fists.

 

“Because Joseph wants him alive.” Jacob reminded, only seeming to prod the increasing agitation coiling beneath the surface of John’s kept together appearance. He looked paler than normal which he couldn’t blame him really. All of this was a new flavor of crazy that they weren’t used to dealing with. It took quite a bit of time just to get used to Joseph’s revelations and now this. “I’m calling Joseph and you’re to stay away from the deputy until he gets here.” Jacob pressed, already reaching for his phone when he saw John scoff and turn towards the fridge.

 

The man opened the door and started to reach for a bottle of water when he cursed loudly, drawing Jacob’s concerned attention as John screeched. “For fuck’s sake! Are you fucking- IN MY FRIDGE?!” Jacob rushed around the counter and gripped John’s shoulder to nudge him aside, inspecting the problem. The missing eyes and tongue of the most recent victim were resting on the shelves, blood pooling and staining the clear plastic shelf, dull brown eyes gazing back up at them. Above it was a severed hand, just as bloody as the other appendages, fingers missing aside from the middle finger which was posed to flip John off.

 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Jacob gave a dry laugh of amusement, looking between his frazzled and infuriated younger brother and the display.

 

John’s face scrunched up with a new thought as he grumbled, stopping Jacob in his tracks as he started to move away. “Where’s the rest of the body?” It dawned on Jacob that the dead man in the stairwell wasn’t missing his hands. They were completely intact. He cursed under his breath and left the room in a hurry, dialing up Joseph as he started searching the house for another impromptu corpse, leaving John to stare at the mess that has become his very expensive kitchen.

 

Two hours later and Joseph arrived, looking exhausted and annoyed, dark bags resting beneath his eyes as he walked through the front door, brought witness before the blood stains still festering in the wood flooring and the acrid bite of cleaner. He followed the sound of soft voices to find Jacob and John quietly talking in the kitchen, John’s head resting in folded arms as he leaned against the tabletop. Jacob was straddling his chair, using it more for comfort and support of his weary form while they waited. They had searched the entire house and hadn’t found the second body which left John dreading going upstairs whatsoever until he was absolutely certain. They looked on the verge of keeling over as the night stretched on to the early hours of morning. A few empty beers rested on the countertop, hardly cold at all but John refused to open the fridge again, drowning his frustrations in room temperature brew like trailer trash.

 

They greeted Joseph with raised heads and tired eyes before the Father’s gaze shifted towards the odd mask in question. His careful facade twisted into a sour scowl. Jacob sighed, knowing Joseph would have much the same idea as him. He reached out for the broken pieces, fingers carefully dancing around the edges of cracked wood and polished curves before withdrawing as fast as if he had been burned by it. He shook his head quickly, turning his attention towards his brothers once more. “Where is the Deputy?”

 

“Who cares?” John grumbled sourly, pressing his face down into the crook of his elbow.

 

“Upstairs.” Jacob stated flatly, sitting upright as Joseph turned and headed for the steps.

  
  
  


Rook felt a tight pain in his chest as he stirred, the dark shadows of the room combatted only by the soft orange glow of a lamplight next to the bed. His wrists tugged lightly on the ropes binding them in place, trying to free them despite not knowing a reason why they were tied in the first place or even why he bothered getting them loose. He felt fabric fumbled with, shifting around as dark silhouettes loomed on the edges of his vision. Warm fingers pressed against his bare skin, trailing across his rib cage, a sharp hiss of pain leaving his lips as he made a pitiful attempt to pull away.

 

“Easy.” A calm voice warned, it was gentle and honey sweet, easing his nerves back. Fingers brushed over the side of Rook’s face, stroking over bruised skin in gentle trails. His eyes fluttered shut, turning towards the offered hand, feeling the warmth of the touch consume his skin, caressing more completely as the same soft voice hushed pained whimpers. The other hand worked carefully, a tight binding sensation catching around his torso, pinching and pulling, making it harder to breath. “You're alright, my child. All will be well.”

 

Rook’s eyes shot open, blinking into focus the familiar outline of the Father’s face. The sharp edges and hard curves, the depth that captured his gaze and drew him in like sweet promises. He tensed beneath the touch, squirming more to find freedom as the fabric of his shirt was adjust. He gasped as another sharp pain sliced through his chest. “Calm down, Deputy. You cracked a couple ribs when we hit you with our truck.” The new voice was a familiar press of words, measured and carefully formed. The agitated tone betrayed the urge for submission. His gaze focused, catching two more figures lingering around the edges of the room. A pair of icy blue orbs was fixed on him, arms crossed as the eldest Seed leaned against the wall. Beside him was the youngest Seed, looking none too pleased at all. Panic crossed Rook's features as he went stiff in the bindings.

 

One Seed was bad enough but he had the whole whack job basket in the room with him and...he had no clue how he got here. Wait- _hit you with our truck?_ He was hit by the Seed’s truck and they were taking care of him? He felt a dizziness rise in his mind as he struggled to recall these events only to be met with a migraine from hell. He groaned, head dropping back against the bed as he gave up struggling. The fingers returned to caress his face, no longer a welcome presence as they carded carefully through his hair. He hissed past parched lips as pain throbbed from tender flesh, working into his skull once more. Joseph hushed his wounded sounds with soothing lulls.

 

“You’re confused by all this, aren’t you my child?” Joseph murmured softly to him, his face impossibly close for comfort. Rook’s eyes squeezed shut as he gave a slow nod of affirmation. Another muffled whimper as his breathing became more distressed and further pushed the pops of pain inside him, prickling colorful bursts behind his eyelids. Joseph gently hushed him again, almost sounding sympathetic to his pain and frantic confusion. “It’s alright. The truth will be revealed in due time. For now, rest.” His hands remained caressing the sides of his face, lips carefully pressed to his forehead, softly forming unspoken words, Rook nearly mistook it for a prayer but he couldn’t tell.

 

He felt something prickling in the back of his mind, an aggressive agitation like spite curling along the boundary lines of his thoughts. They were distant, shoved off like being captured behind a veil and kept at arm’s length. Joseph pushed up from the edge of the bed and made his way towards the doorway, a hand resting on John’s shoulder as he ushered his youngest brother out the door, the baptist looking none too pleased with the direction but his reluctance was short lived. Only Jacob Seed was left behind, claiming the place that Joseph had vacated as he sank down into a chair and settled in, his gaze fixed on Rook’s with a curious form of scrutiny. Rook’s lips parted as if to speak, catching a more intense stare before he closed his mouth and turned his gaze away, inspecting the rest of the darkness and the faint shadows fighting against the orange glow of lamp light and the faint grey hues peeking through the closed curtains. The early shreds of morning breaking through as the sun neared the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be shy to leave a couple bits of commentary below. I really look forward to it and it helps motivate me to keep writing. Or if you have questions about anything that is going on in the story, please feel free to ask.


	5. Chapter 5

Rook’s confusion only increased when he woke up to the mid afternoon light pouring into the room. He was no longer in the upstairs bedroom but was seated on the downstairs couch, stuck between Jacob and the arm of the couch itself. The soldier's strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him tucked up against his side. His wrists were bound together, resting in his lap as he looked around at the intensity of the room. John sat in the adjacent armchair, hands resting on the sides, a near permanent scowl aimed towards the deputy. Joseph was standing before the main window looking out over the ranch, his body casting shadows across the room. Rook remained silent but his awakening did not go unnoticed. Jacob's grip on his shoulder tightened in warning as Joseph started to speak.

 

“You've become a vessel for evil. A calling card of another's sin.” That wasn't what he was expecting but then again, Joseph was a cradle of cats sort of crazy. “You must be cleansed of this entity but it won't be easy.” He informed Rook, a pair of intense eyes turned to gaze at him, even far away it was unnerving but the deputy was thankful for the distance.

 

His eyes darted towards John who shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He seemed to be the most aggravated by all this. “I don't see how any of this changes anything. He's a sinner, a defiler.” He gestured towards Rook with sharp movements. They were tense and hard, causing Rook to flinch, half expecting the Baptists temper to add weight to them. He's seen John more times then he'd like, completely lose his cool and go into a rage filled tantrum. “Just because he's gotten a little more creative in how he meddles.”

 

Jacob shook his head slowly. “The mask, John. That's what this is all about.”

 

“I fail to see what's so important about a mask.” John grumbled, narrowing his eyes at his oldest brother.

 

“Many do and for that, it becomes their downfall.” Joseph’s tone was soft but there was a harsh bite clipping through the smooth deliverance of his words, as if he were preaching, always preaching. Never a normal conversation with this man, it was always another sermon. Another lesson. Another example of faith and belief, an opportunity to prove his divinity. It caught John off guard, causing the youngest Seed to recoil, he slumped back into the chair, the tension still coiling under his skin but smothered into submission by Joseph’s words. With Jacob, it was always another fight, baring teeth and snarling at one another but Joseph was a medium between them, that ebbed the anger and resentment and pushed it down into an illusion of well placed peace.

 

Rook was even more confused than before. His face twisted into a vivid display that seemed to amuse Jacob. An earthy rumble in his throat caused the deputy to flinch, head turning to meet that predatory gaze fixed on him, always dominating a room much the same as Joseph’s only whereas the Father’s was intense, binding into your soul, Jacob’s threatened to devour you if you didn’t meet expectation. Given Jacob’s little heart to heart in the past, Rook really didn’t want to be devoured, not figuratively or in the literal sense. He was in enough pain as is, every breath was a constant struggle, fighting through the compressed feeling of his torso. He could feel whatever binder Joseph had fixed up to help with his ribs, he wasn’t sure if that was the problem or just the injuries themselves.

 

Joseph let out a tired sigh, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as he adjusted the sunglasses. “Three more bodies have been discovered in the night.” Joseph explained. “They had been killed in the last couple days. This brings the death toll..” He paused, his gaze darting towards Jacob who was obviously keeping track.

 

“Forty-two.” The soldier said matter-of-factly.

 

Joseph sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t doubt that there are more bodies dispersed across the county from you.” _‘Well, yeah. That’s sort of the point.’_ Rook thought to himself. He’s killed probably hundreds of Eden’s Gate peggies so the tiny number they brought before him was nothing compared to the full extent of his actions. He didn’t understand why this was such a problem or why they had him tied up like this.

 

“He doesn’t _get it_.” John barked out through gritted teeth, hands held up in sharp gestures once more. He looked on the verge of jumping to his feet and lunging at the deputy. His fingers curled into tight fists, buried into the arms of the chair before he did actually jump to his feet. It was all fast movements, causing Rook to recede back into the safety of Jacob’s hold. John stalked past, a shuffling of heavy items before he returned with a cardboard file box in hand, he dropped it onto the coffee table with a loud thud, causing the furniture to tremble and groan. He tossed the box lid off to the side and dumped out the carefully organized files into a messy pile of photos and notes. Rook went pale at the sight. Every image was thoroughly recorded, every wound, every marking, every scene was taken into account.

 

Instead of the rushed documentation of Father Jerome’s people and Rook’s own handiwork at the Lamb of God church, this was surreal. Jacob pressed his hand at the deputy’s shoulder, urging him to sit up and get a good long look at all of it. Rook felt the sick clenching in his stomach as he shook his head. It was slow at first, as his eyes flitted over photo after photo. John even started handing them to him, faces of people that used to work for them, civilians prepared to take the plunge for Eden’s Gate. Volunteers and hostages alike, priestesses and clergy, all of them. John was furious, it was obvious and Rook felt his entire world topple all at once. He shook his head more quickly, pushing the photos away in a huff of denial.

 

John snatched him up by his shirt collar and growled. “ _You_ did this. This was by your hands, _sinner_ . **Do not lie to me!** ” He jerked at Rook’s shirt, a pain whimper leaving the deputy’s throat as his ribs protested and it suddenly became a lot harder to breath.

 

“John!” Joseph’s voice was an explosive burst that reduced the room to a frozen state of panic and intensity. His gaze was hard, pinning all three men in place until John finally released the deputy. The ex-lawyer turned on his heel in a huff and stalked out of the room. The front door slammed shut as the stomp of boots faded out across the porch. The room settled into silence as Rook looked over the photos, hesitant as bound wrists rifled through one after another. Some he remembered from Father Jerome’s scouts, one was of the Bloody Angel and there were a couple more that had been discovered in Jacob’s area. Some of the whitetails sent it in, a couple of civilians and some of militia members. There were Eden’s Gate members mixed in. All of them just as bloody and gruesome as the first, if not more.

 

A sound sliced through the air, a strangled scream of horror and rage mingling together. It was a scream that was familiar to both brothers as they looked sternly at each other. It was followed by incoherent cursing and raving. “I guess he found where the rest of the severed hand is.” Jacob remarked, only a tinge of amusement in his voice. A heavy sigh left Joseph who’s gaze was pleading to the eldest brother to do something. Jacob’s grip on Rook’s shoulder tightened in silent answer. Joseph tossed his hands up, scrubbed at his face before his hands moved to rest behind his neck.

 

He let out a deep breath, fixed his composure and headed out towards the hangar where an irate John was spitting mad. A naked body tied up to the propeller of his plane, the genitalia apparently far too close to eye level for John’s comfort and the cause of the scream as he walked in the door to get a face full of a corpse’s junk. The neat and tidy hangar became a war zone of thrown tools and some marginally destroyed spare part crates that had the misfortune of being at the wrong end of a sledgehammer. Joseph just let him get it out of his system before even attempting to pry the hammer out of his youngest brother’s hands and trying to sooth his wrath.

 

Jacob was left inside to console the shaky form of his charge. He watched as Rook explored the photographs, the look in his eyes was of a man who couldn’t believe. He looked lost, frantic even. Jacob had expected this. So had Joseph in some form. He rested a firm hand on Rook’s shoulder, squeezed gently to get his attention towards him. “You don’t remember anything, do you?” Rook gave a slow shake of his head, carefully turning his body so he was facing the soldier more completely but mindful of his ribs. He didn’t want to look at the photos anymore. He didn’t want to see any of it. One or two was fine, but so many all at once. So much damage done, the mutilation, it was too much. Rook thought nothing could surprise him after Eden’s Gate, nothing could make his stomach churn anymore after the atrocities the peggies had committed but he was dead wrong.

 

Jacob gave a grunt of acknowledgement, one hand scratching at his bearded chin thoughtfully. “In several cultures around the world, there is a belief that items such as masks can be infused with spirits. They can become attached and use the mask as a medium to possess unknowing wearers. Shaman’s and Witch Doctors use them to commune with the dead or to enter the spirit realm. Others use them so the dead retain their true faces in the afterlife. It’s not an uncommon belief for demons or wayward spirits to mistake just any mask as being their true face.” Jacob explained, giving Rook a gentle nudge, hooking his fingers under his chin to direct his gaze to meet the inquisitive blue orbs, with their own animalistic intensity. Rook was frozen before them, letting the soldier do as he pleased. He inspected the deputy’s eyes in silence before giving a hum of approval. “It appears that a demon was harbored within that mask. When it possesses you, it feels compelled to wear it meaning it believes that’s it’s real face. The mask has been broken so we don’t know the extent of its reach. Whether this will be the end of its influence or not, only time can tell.”

 

Rook swallowed hard as Jacob dismissed him, allowing him to do as he pleased. He remained frozen where he was, staring up at the soldier for a long time. He didn’t want to be stuck as their captive for the rest of time or however long until John’s anger becomes unhinged or Joseph’s crazed rantings decide they can keep him like some personal pet, or sacrifice him before his flock like a martyr in their cause. Rook needed to get as far and as fast away from this house of lunatics as he could and soon. Despite their belief’s and all the preaching going on, it was hard for him to stomach that he had anything to do with these murders or that Joseph _fucking_ Seed and his whole fanatic family wanted to help him. To _save_ him. Especially now that _demons_ of all things were involved. No thank you. This was one hard pass on his end.

  


As the day stretched on, Joseph got John to come back inside but the baptist and the deputy were kept as far away from each other as physically possible. Rook remained in the living room by Jacob’s side while Joseph skirted any animosity his youngest sibling was feeling. They had dinner in their own separate little areas, Joseph was a surprisingly good cook and made enough for all four of them. Rook’s hands were freed long enough for him to eat his meal with plastic utensils. He wasn’t even allowed real cutlery or a real plate. Everything was plastic or styrofoam. Apparently they weren’t taking any chances with him. The only time he was permitted to leave the living room was in Jacob’s presence and that was a very short and incredibly uncomfortable trip to the bathroom that took ten times longer than necessary due to Rook’s nervous bladder.

 

By the time night fell, he was tired, cranky, uncomfortable and absolutely miserable. He pretty much had Jacob Seed attached to him at the hip, eyes were constantly following him around and the soldier seemed to have a hand on him in some way or another at all times. It was uncomfortable in more ways than one, feeling the slight tug or resistance of the eldest Seed’s tense grip. He felt like a scolded child.

 

The brothers started to drift off in the night, giving in to their own exhaustion but Rook’s body was anxious, brimming with energy. He blamed being stuck on a couch the entire day for the problem and eventually persuaded Jacob to let him lay down on the floor. They moved the coffee table, threw a couple blankets down and he became more trapped on the floor then he was on the couch. He waited until Jacob appeared to be completely sound asleep and then waited what felt like another hour on top of that before starting to worm his way out of the soldier’s hold. It took an additional hour to wiggle himself free inch by inch, a few times it was thwarted by Jacob reaffirming his grip before he was finally freed. It was an additional problem to maneuver his way around in the dark, catching his shin on the coffee table, he held his breath, feeling tears prickle the edges of his eyes at the white hot pain. He took a few careful breathes, calmed himself and made his way to the front door. It was the easiest escape route as far as he cared, finagling with the lock was harder with his bound wrists but it clicked free. His heart pounded excitedly when the light in the foyer clicked on.

 

Rook froze as the cold voice of the baptist sliced through the air. “Where do you think you’re going, Deputy?” That drawl on his name made him cringe. He bit his bottom lip, glanced over his shoulder to meet the hard scowl. In the other rooms, he could hear Joseph and Jacob started to stir. He hissed out a breath, John took a step forward. Rook took his chance and threw the door open just as John lunged to grab for him. He slammed the door shut behind himself, holding it closed as the baptist fought with the handle, cursing for his brothers to help. Rook let go and rushed across the driveway, his lungs heaving for every breath against his injured ribs, bare feet pressing against hard gravel until it met soft soil. All the lights on the ranch flooded the area all at once, blinding him briefly as the brothers rushed out after him. Rook kept running.

 

He ran as fast and as far as he could, until he could no longer hear John Seed’s furious voice barking after him or Jacob Seed’s boot steps chasing after him. He ran until he hit the steep incline of the hill and tumbled head over ass, coming to a crumpled heap in the brush along the side of the road. He ran until his feet were raw and his skin was sweat soaked and his lungs threatened to give out. Until he was on the verge of collapsing in dizziness and then when he finally did, dropping like a heap in the fields outside of Fall’s End.


	6. Chapter 6

Rook’s first view was obscured by the faint orange glow of lamp light before his vision began to focus. He could make out the water stained spongy tiling of the ceiling, the edges of privacy curtains that separated each cot into its own special little space. An I.V drip was set up on a stand, the plastic tubing attached to the inside of his elbow, a dull ache and a bone deep chill was an unforgiving sensation that flooded his mind. He took a deep breath and ended up nearly coughing his lungs up in the process. He rasped, watching as a familiar rounded face behind glasses rushed over to fuss frantically.  There was nervous chattering before Virgil scurried away, louder voices followed, a sharp hush from one of them before silence trailed. Then the soft scuff of feet as his friends rounded the corner of the curtain. The click of claws was a welcome sound as a set of large brown eyes and an open excited maw met his face with long slimy licks.

 

Rook raised his hand to pet Boomer’s head carefully, long slow strokes through coarse fur. Nick offered him a relieved smile as he took a seat on the adjacent empty cot. Sheriff Whitehorse stood by the curtains, hands resting on his hips as he gave his deputy a worried look. “Welcome back, Rook.” The sheriff was the first to speak, watching through narrowed eyes as Boomer wiggled his way up onto the cot and found a niche between Rook’s legs, laying with his head carefully resting against his abdomen. It was a pretty normal spot for the canine to find comfort in, Rook would pull the dog up against him for warmth and right now that was something he desperately, craved. Fingers ruffling up the short hairs into a shedding mess that he really didn’t care about, a smile playing on the edges of tired lips as he nodded at each man in acknowledgement.

 

“You were lucky, partner.” Nick exclaimed, his voice just above a whisper. “Boomer found you near dead in the field outside of town. He woke all of Fall’s End up at the ass crack of dawn to get you some help.” Rook’s smile widened giving the big furry head a squeeze in his arms as he pressed a kiss to the canine’s forehead. Boomer’s features spread into a wider more satisfied grin as if he knew exactly was the conversation entailed.

 

Rook looked up, giving the sheriff a perplexed look then glanced around in silent question. Whitehorse was the one to answer this time, knowing his deputy like the back of his hand. “John flooded the roads with patrols. Father Jerome helped Nick here smuggle you out of Holland Valley. I don’t know what you did, but the Seed brother’s sent out a manhunt for you. From Holland Valley all the way to the Whitetail mountains and back, they’re demanding we give you up.”

 

Rook’s smile fell, his features shadowed in something more downcast and lost. Boomer gave a quiet whine, nudging his wet nose against Rook’s cheek, a slow warm lick across his jaw rekindled it only briefly before it resumed its worry. “Everyone is staying indoors for now. Don’t worry man, we’re not gonna let them anywhere near you.” Rook looked toward Nick before he raised a hand, fingers tapping against the top of his wrist.

 

Nick looked confused but the sheriff understood. “You’ve been out for three days. But you’ve been missing for over a week.” _A week? That makes no sense._ He did a mental rewind and figured he had only been at the Seed ranch a day, maybe two tops. Before that, he had been at Fall’s End trying to fend off what felt like a cold that had set in. He remembered being huddled up on his cot with Boomer wrapped around him, feeling like he’d been run through a steam roller and spit back out worse then when he started. He sighed, sinking back into the cot as Boomer pressed up closer to him, nuzzling under his jaw with urgent intent to make whatever was upsetting Rook, better.

 

“Why are the Seed’s suddenly so hellbent on catching you?” Nick asked, not exactly expecting an answer. He blinked in confusion, the action easily seen over the rim of his sunglasses as Rook raised his hands to make mock horns on either side of his head and made a face at Nick. The pilot cursed, shaking his head in disbelief. The Sheriff seemed perplexed, looking between his deputy and the pilot for answers. “Christ almighty, they think you’re behind those fucked up murders?” Rook gave a nod of affirmation, his gaze dropped down to ruffle up Boomer’s ears. The canine huffed past his lips, blasting Rook with a gust of foul dog breath. He grimaced, shaking it off as he continued to focus on the dog, scratching behind his ears and ruffling the scruff of his neck. The heavy thump of the canine’s tail thundered in the room.

 

The Sheriff heaved a heavy sigh, giving a slow shake of his head as he murmured. “The whole world’s gone fucking nuts. Why not?” He turned, hearing Virgil called for his name out in the hallways. He gave a curt wave towards Rook and left him in Nick and Boomer’s care. The silence steadied over them, Nick bobbing a leg anxiously in thought. He looked eager to do something other than sitting around. Rook could sympathize with that, despite aching all over, he didn’t want to just sit in one spot and wait for the Seed’s and their wave if insanity to finally track him to here of all places. He knew it would only be a matter of time and he’d much rather be prepared for it.

  
  
  
  


For all his big thoughts. Rook ended up laid up for two more days at the prison. Mostly at the end of threats from the sheriff to have him handcuffed and locked up if he didn’t rest but even Whitehorse knew it would only be a matter of time before the Deputy was prowling around for his belongings. Father Jerome had sent them with Nick when they smuggled Rook out of Fall’s End. The pilot had been around the deputy enough to know what Rook takes with him and that all of his belongings were neatly packed inside his bag and hanging on the chair of his sleeping quarters. Virgil had them locked up in the main office and Rook stalked around him quietly until the anxious man finally gave into the quiet sentinel of a Deputy and released his belongings to him. Rook checked everything out, seemingly satisfied, patted Virgil on the shoulder in approval then scampered off to cause trouble with Boomer and Nick hot on his heels.

 

Since they were in the Henbane now, Rook was feeling aggressively pent up and pulled out his map, showing off a few different locations he’s heard house Faith’s bliss spewing shrines. Recently topped off with an assload of explosives in the back seat and Rook itching to set something on fire an watch it explode in a shower of flame, debris and sparkly bullshit, they made their way to the nearest location. Maybe, he’s been spending too much time with Sharky and Hurk but he really needed that little tidbit of stress relief and it made him feel so much better.

 

Around the third shrine to go sky high and a dozen more dead peggies biting the dust, he got a radio call, half expecting to hear Faith’s high pitched tone over the frequency, he was met with that terrifyingly low rumble that sent chills down his spine. “I see you pup.” _Jacob Seed._ Rook cursed. “You’re not going to get away from me this time. You could just make this easier on everybody and come on back. There won’t be any punishment and there is nothing to fear. I promise.” _That’s like sticking your hand in a box of vipers just because it says ‘Please pet me!’ with a happy snake face on it._ Rook thought to himself, not feeling all that eager to get bit in the ass for it. He shook his head and shoved the radio back into his bag.

 

“What the fuck was that about?” Nick blurted, gripping his rifle a little bit tighter as he looked around. Jacob had a really good habit of unnerving everyone in a ten mile vicinity. Rook couldn’t exactly tell if Jacob meant the truth, if he could really see him or not but he really didn’t want to find out. He whistled for Boomer and they piled back into the truck to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. As Nick drove, Rook dug around inside his bag to find Boomer’s treats to reward the pup for a job well done, already feeling the cold nose pressing at the back of his neck expectantly. The smiled, patted Boomer on the head to be patient. He found the treat pouch at the bottom of the bag, sitting next to the familiar string of beads beside it. He inspected the intricately carved beads, thumbing a gloved finger over it curiously. His mind jumping back to what the rebel said who gave him these. He didn’t think they’d actually keep evil away but it was worth a shot. At the moment, he was desperate enough and hoped it’d keep a nice sized gap between him and the hellspawn that is the Seed family.

 

He slipped the beads around his left wrist, placing them somewhere that’s least likely to fall off, tucking them beneath the dark material of his sleeve before the cold wet nose poked him again. He shivered, straightening up in his seat with a playful huff towards the canine. Boomer nudged him until a palm full of little biscuits was presented. Nick made a disgusted sound as Boomer thoroughly covered Rook’s glove and part of the shoulder of the seat in slobber. “Man, I just cleaned the blood out of here from the last time.” The pilot griped, offering a frustrated glance towards his companions before giving in and focusing on the road.

  


It became a fun little game of destroying Eden’s Gate property and narrowly dodging Jacob and John’s attempts at recapturing him. They’d flit from region to region, jumping boundary lines so fast he was sure Joseph’s head was spinning at this point. As far as Rook knew, there were no more murders and running the Seeds in circles was actually kind of satisfying after they’ve run him all over kingdom come with their ridiculous plans. Eden’s Gate’s projects seemed to be on an unofficial pause as every able body was on the lookout for him and only him. He felt bad though as Nick was caught along for the ride. Occasionally Grace and Sharky would hop along with him but he trusted Nick when things got tight to be able to get them out of there. His quick reflexes from years of piloting and working under pressure helped him navigate the most chaotic situations without fail. It was working well for them, for a decent couple of weeks. Rook was feeling back to his normal self again, or at least he didn’t hurt all over all the time. He was starting to let his guard down despite the waves of peggies being launched their direction all the time.

 

So well in fact, that Rook decided it was time for a nice little break down by the Marina. He drove the boat out towards the little island in the center of the water, had Boomer by his side and tossed a few lines in. Nick was helping Adelaide with a couple things around the hangar, patching up some of the damage the peggies put the place through during their occupation. The water was quiet for once and the fish were biting which was a nice change of pace. He sat his bag down at his side and hung his legs over the edge of the dock, letting them sway back and forth while Boomer played in the grass chasing doves and ducks from the cat tails. His radio crackled to life as a deeply weary sigh was expressed. The tone was soft, disappointed even as the soldier spoke to him. “I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise, pup. I should have known you’d run. You were afraid. It’s completely natural to feel that way. It was a lot all at once.” Rook was confused as he listened to Jacob, turning the volume up on the radio as the man continued to speak.

 

“I thought if I welcomed you back with open arms, you would come on your own but that is not the case and time is not on your side.” Rook felt a creeping chill climbing along his spine as he reeled in the last few feet of his line. He pulled his feet back up onto the wood boards, despite knowing Jacob couldn’t get him all the way out here, he wanted to be ready. There wasn’t another boat on the water for miles but something felt wrong. The more Jacob spoke, he could sense it. Something wasn’t right. “You must return to me, pup. It’s the only way this can end. You know that, deep down, you understand that but you’re denying yourself.” Jacob’s tone was too soft, too sympathetic to be normal. “It’s alright. There’s no reason to be afraid any longer. Come back to me.” It wasn’t a command but he felt a deep set pull inside him, a tug of familiarity that he couldn’t deny. He whistled to Boomer to follow him as he pulled his bag up onto his shoulder, adjusting the strap.

 

He reached for his radio but froze in place, a soft melody danced through the speaker, quiet at first and so subtle he hadn’t noticed until his vision began to take a rosy hue. He felt unsteady on his own two feet as the world started to blur. Then the lyrics hit him. _“...make all this world seem right. Only you~ can make the darkness bright…”_ The music continued to play and Rook struggled against it, dropped to his knees and covered his ears with his hands, he scrambled for the radio but it was too late as the strength in his limbs faltered. He couldn’t focus on the buttons or knobs, only succeeding in dialing up the volume louder. He screamed over top of it, the sound of his broken and raw voice echoing across the marina, the lull of the music taking over what little bit of control he had until everything else around him fell away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i was going to work on the next installment of K-9 but this was calling out to me yet again and I couldn't help but write more to it. Especially since the end paragraphs leap out at me when I was trying to sleep and wouldn't let me rest until I started writing. So enjoy!

“...dmit, I’m impressed.” The baptist’s voice petered into Rook’s thoughts, hearing the man speak highly in praise, his words responded to by an amused rumble. John’s tone was taunting, sharpened around the edges with his usual pent up anger that found itself revived in Rook’s presence. “You’re like the pied piper of mutts.” Rook felt a twinge of annoyance spark inside him at that commentary, feeling the sharp jab aimed more so at him then the person he was actually speaking with. His eyes opened slowly, feeling the heavy weight of cold metal wrapped around his wrists. His shoulders were pinched against the back of the chair, catching uncomfortably on the shortened edges in areas that were raw and tender. He hissed through clenched teeth, blinking blearily as the room came into view. “Oh look, here comes sleeping beauty.”

 

“John.” The tone was firm, a warning growled out and punctuated by a step towards Rook. As the deputy lifted his head, he found himself staring down the two brothers. The cold chill lapping at the nape of his neck, sending shivers through his sweat spattered form. The clothing on his body sticking uncomfortably in places that were already beginning to chafe. How long had he been out? He couldn’t recall but the dryness of his throat and the raw sandpaper feeling were enough of an answer to make him anxious. He gave a hard swallow and was met with sticky resistance. He tried clearing his throat and ended up in a cough. 

 

A verbal scoff met the air as John folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. His eyes narrowed on Rook with aggressive certainty. The deputy could imagine the man was going over every little torture and tactic he had in that cage of crazy to make him confess to everything. If Jacob wasn’t present, he was certain this interaction would be much more painful and unpleasant. The soldier stood a foot away from his brother with hands on his hips as he inspected the deputy. “Did you have fun killing those people? Leaving a few more gifts around the county for us to find. Your death toll is up to fifty-one now.” John jabbed at him with a verbal assault of disgust and barely contained aggression. Rook could see the tension in his body, the way his shoulders shifted and the little ticks of his left hand. He was just itching for something sharp and stabby. 

 

Rook shook his head slowly, considering the information. That meant eight more dead bodies had been found in the last couple weeks. He didn’t remember any blackouts or missing time. He hadn’t been feeling sick like the last times or as worn out. He still found it hard to believe that he was the source of these murders but a part of him considered it a possibility. But the mask, it was broken. Jacob had it last, so it couldn’t have been him. He met John’s hard gaze, baring through the visual daggers being aimed his direction as he shook his head more fervently in protest. John snarled at him, words forming on his lips as he moved closer but was inevitably cut off by the behemoth of the eldest Seed’s figure blocking John in a corner and silencing any attempts at riling Rook up. 

 

John scowled at his eldest brother, giving a brief glance past the broad shoulders of the soldier to level his glare at Rook before he turned on his heel and disappeared out the door. It clicked shut with a heavy foreboding sound in the silence of the room. Jacob sighed and turned back towards Rook, every boot step across the wood was a dry scuff in Rook’s ears, far too loud for his liking. He tensed as the eldest Seed reached out for him, fingers resting atop his head, curling blunt nails into his scalp and scraping across sensitive skin. He remained frozen in place, holding completely still for several seconds, every loud heart beat thundering in his chest until he succumbed to the touch and leaned closer. A grunt of approval followed and the motions became more languid through the tangled mess of his hair. 

 

The hand dropped down to cup his jaw, gently raising his chin until Rook met those icy orbs. His grip tightened for but a fraction, demanding the deputy’s full attention as he spoke in that low timbre that made Rook squirm in the seat. “It’s too late to go back.” Jacob said with absolute certainty. “Too much blood has been shed, too much flesh has been consumed. It’s a part of you now. You know that, a part of you realizes this deep down.” Rook gave another hard swallow, this time it worked but left a frustrating scratchiness within. He couldn’t make sense of what the eldest Seed was saying, lately his usually sane ravings were starting to sound as mad and incoherent as Joseph’s sermons. 

 

It was unnerving since Rook always saw Jacob as a sort of life raft in this ocean of crazy. The only possibility that this didn’t have to end the way everyone was anticipating. Now he could see it all slipping away with a few shreds of his own sanity because he was falling for it. Word for fucking word, every thing that fell from Jacob Seed’s lips sucked him in and he couldn’t deny the man. It was infuriating and welcoming at the same time. How his presence could always set a sort of calm across his mind, could soothe the anxious feelings that knotted up inside him but this new topic was harder to soothe. It was harder to remove this burden from his shoulders, to calm the storm that was building within and prepared to burst with an explosive overwhelming rage sparked by Rook’s exceeding levels of helplessness.

 

A thumb rolled over Rook’s bottom lip, inspecting the scar that had formed over the edges where it had been split over and over again and never quite healed correctly. There were other scars that littered his body, old and new and most all of them happened right here in this god forsaken county at the hands of crazies and beasts. “Be a good pup.” Jacob spoke softly, a honeyed tone that was uncomfortably soft coming from such a gruff looking man. It didn’t stop the little comment from sparking a pull of excitement and pride in his chest. An eagerness to hear more praise from those lips. In fact, he was eager to hear praise at all. He was so damn touch starved since all of this started and the uncomfortable intimacy that came with the Seed family and their interactions with all who cross their paths was something he could never shake. Jacob Seed was the worst of it, bringing him to heel with a simple enough word. He was helpless before this man and he hated it. Despised it. Loved every fucking second of it and felt guilty all because of it. 

 

There was a shadow over his vision, the soft ticklish companionship that came from a beard against skin as warm lips rested on his forehead. It was a brief touch, the hand slipped away from his jaw as the soldier turned and drew away, disappearing like a phantom through the same heavy wooden door. Rook was left to his own devices which wasn’t his favorite thing in the world when he was immobilized. His gaze roamed around the room, finding it was completely empty. Just wood floors, the slanted shade around a light bulb hanging above him and the sturdy uncomfortable wooden chain he was chained up in. Yes, chained in. Like he was the hulk or something and they didn’t think rope was good enough this time around. Or maybe John ran out of duct tape and was in a kinkier mood. He huffed a sigh, testing the chains, finding the same resistance as before. Now that he thought of it, these were more like the chains Jacob tied his Judges up on. 

 

They kept him bound like that for hours, coming and going in intervals to check on him. John’s was the extent of opening the door, peering inside then shutting it when the deputy didn’t look like he was dead. It was usually accompanied by annoyed grumbling and some incoherent bitching on the other side of the door. Jacob would enter an actually spend time with the Deputy but he’d rarely speak. Just lean against the wall or sit on the floor, quietly watching him. A few times he brought a canteen of water with him and coaxed a controlled amount past Rook’s parched lips. The deputy wasn’t sure what they were waiting for, they never spoke about it, just kept an eye on him, scrutinizing every action and gesture, any body language that seemed even slightly off or behavior that wasn’t the norm. They would become tense then relax upon realizing it was nothing to worry over. The stress levels emitted in the room from the two were enough to wear Rook out and he wasn’t even doing anything except fighting intense boredom and the rising desire to sleep with the continued quiet. 

 

Another hour passed on as Rook struggled to stay awake. His eyelids would drift shut, head drooping before he’d jerk back awake then would start to succumb once more. Jacob and John were present, speaking in hushed tones about Eden’s Gate business and speculation involving the resistance, mostly John when they noticed the deputy’s behavior. They fell silent, watching the deputy quietly, frozen in place in expectation as the minutes ticked by. Rook had settled with eyes closed, his breathing shallowed out in slow steady breaths, his head drooped down so his chin was against his chest. The deputy’s features went slack, head lolling awkwardly to the side as exhaustion finally claimed him completely. John scowled as if all the anticipation had been for nothing as fifteen minutes crawled by. 

 

Jacob straightened up, arms unfolding as icy blue orbs fixed a cold stare at the man. John had fallen unusually silent as a suffocating intensity swelled within the room, a shifting chill that crawled down their spines and had their hairs rising on end. The brothers swallowed thickly, watching as relaxed features twitched to life, twisting into coiled muscles and a distorted malicious smile that shattered the kind serenity that normally occupied that space. 

  
  
Eyelids fluttered open with a beady red glint, like blood in the darkness catching slivers of moonlight. They were completely swallowed up by it. Lips parted in a low rumble of greeting, a gargled mess of broken sounds and distorted syllables. It was a language that made the brothers tight in the chest and hard to breath, every fiber of their beings demanding they flee, immediately. It took a long time for John to muster up enough of his voice to speak, a hoarse whisper that barely reached Jacob's ears. "I think I preferred it when the Deputy didn't speak at all." 

  
  
Jacob made a sound of acknowledgement, choked off as the deputy’s head snapped to a painful angle, fixing those red orbs on the brothers. John stiffened. Jacob went rigid, his entire body tense and prepared for a fight, hand already curled by his hip, fingers itching for his knife or his gun. A low growl rolled out like thunder, lips drawn back into a phantom smile as Rook's throat bobbed and swelled ushering out inhuman clicks. The chains keeping the deputy in place groaned under the strain, the iron links creaking as the entity tested their strength. Jacob prayed to God they hold up. It was one thing dealing with the Deputy. He was human, a vessel with an unforeseen purpose. Just another man and a puppet to be manipulated at their whims. This, this was something else entirely. They were not equipped for this. 

  
  
"What do we do now?" John asked, barely concealed panic underlying his voice. It took everything the Baptist had to keep it to a low volume, to not scream and shout in a terrified panic. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the deputy, was too afraid to. He wished Joseph was here because the continued silence from Jacob was nerve wracking. Jacob always had the answers, could think quickly under pressure. He was a rock that defended them from a cruel world, now he was reduced to the same overwhelming silence as him. It was far from encouraging and only further enforced John's desire to run for his fucking life. Yet his body betrayed him. His legs refused to budge, he couldn't even look away. His eyes stung- _when was the last time he blinked?_ Dear God, what have they gotten themselves into?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking creative liberties on this one as far as exorcisms go because there is a very very broad range of possibilities for criteria depending on the religion and what not. So this is like Eden's Gate's version I guess. Hopefully you guys enjoy it. Thank you all for the feedback so far. I enjoy hearing from you guys, your thoughts and feelings about each installment. It makes me happy and is one of the most enjoyable parts of my day. ^.^ I know I said I was going to work on K-9 but this fic has been calling out to me and I couldn't help but jump back in to another chapter.

"John, do something." Jacob spoke in a hard whisper through gritted teeth. He didn't dare move as those beady red eyes fixed on him, swiveling back and forth between the two, as if trying to decide which they wanted to go after first. That ungodly language continued to fumble past quiet lips, a dreadful chill filtering into the room with it.

 

"What?!" John's voice broke in disbelief, hitting a higher pitch then normal as he dared a sideways glance towards his brother. "What do you expect me to do?"

 

"I don't know. Exorcise the damn thing?" The grumbly laughter that followed haunted the brothers as the creature cackled in deafening amusement. It bared it's twisted grin like a Cheshire smile from hell. Jacob cursed under his breath, shifting his body slightly more in front of John as his protective instincts dialed up a few notches. "You're a Baptist. That means you have divine providence against something sinful."

 

"I'm not a real baptist, Jacob!" John nearly screeched.

 

Jacob tilted his head, giving a slight shake of his head at his brother. "You were ordained by Joseph in the name of the Father and Eden’s Gate. You're the most qualified person here, for fuck's sake."

 

John fell into silence, considering what Jacob had said. In all honesty, he didn't want to go anywhere near the deputy or whatever the fuck was in charge now. He wanted to run, to get as far from this place and this man as possible. God, he wished Joseph was here right now. Another sharp cackle stole his attention, watching the deputy's head turn at angles that made John cringe. The chains creaked and groaned under the strain as the demon shifted in the seat. The chair squeaked as it was shifted against the wood boards. The edges of the legs driving scratches and gouges into the surface.

 

John sighed, nudging Jacob's shoulder with a half hearted pat. "Fine. Give me your canteen." The soldier did so without question, unhooking it from his belt. John gave it a shake, feeling it was half full. ' _Good enough.'_ John figured, it was originally meant for the Deputy just not in this way. He uncapped it, recited a blessing that was ingrained into his mind from his childhood, the Latin mantra burned into his brain, passing his lips in silky smoothly spoken syllables as if he'd been doing this his entire life. To the contrary, he had spent many years on the other end of these encounters. Forced under the hand of withered old priests trying to drive the demon's from his soul at the clamoring and pleading of his foster parents. ' _If only they were here to see what a true demon looks like.'_ He let a small smirk pull at the corners of his lips. For all he knew, they were probably already facing a legion in hell right this moment and that satisfied him more than it truly should. But it gave him the two bits of confidence he needed to muster up the courage to shorten the distance between him and the Deputy.

 

The demon lunged towards him, teeth bared in a snarl, causing John to stiffen. He smothered the flinch and swell of fear that bubbled up inside him. He forced down the trembling hands and the nerves that slithered through his limbs. He calmed his mind with thoughts of the Father and Joseph's prophecy. He continues his blessing, holding the canteen in his fingers as he motioned _The Father, The Son and the Holy Spirit_. He repeated this gesture several times until he felt it flowing through his limbs. A sudden undefined calm that set his mind and soul at peace. He let out a slow easy breath and covered the mouth of the open canteen, only letting out a few sprinklings at a time as he doused the demon in holy water.

 

"In the name of the Father and God in heaven, I command you to leave this soul!" He proclaimed, met with only more cackles and bloodcurdling laughter. John repeated this demand over and over, mixing and mingling with the Latin blessings, his voice rising with depth and determination. The demon's amusement became agitation and soon it was spitting and sputtering angrily in the confines of the chair. John continued, watching as it trembled and jerked in the seat, fighting the blessing with all it had. The clinking of the chains rivaled John's own volume as the deputy’s body twisted and coiled in the seat. A telltale pop had Jacob on edge, he saw the motion, the odd formation of the deputy’s body, curved at painful angles. He jumped between John and the deputy as the chains smacked the back of the chair and the creature lunged for the baptist.

 

John's speech ceased as Jacob hit the ground with the demon on top of him, the malformation of the deputy’s left shoulder attempting to rotate was a gruesome sign to the brothers. The growls muffled as teeth sunk into Jacob's shoulder, searching and snapping at anything it could get a hold of but it's bound wrists prevented it from grappling, using it's legs and it's teeth for whatever leverage and fight it could. The soldier seized the deputy’s shoulders and rolled them over, wrenching the teeth from his flesh with a pained hiss, bloodied lips curled back in a growl of satisfaction.

 

"Keep going John!" Jacob shouted, pulling John from his surprise and forcing him back to the repetitive mantras. He sprinkled more water across the deputy’s head. Red spots flaring up where the water met like a rash as growls turned into shrieks and high pitched screams. The volume increased in the room between John and the demon until it was deafening. Jacob fought the figure, keeping it immobilized until the voice broke into silent outbursts. Sound faded and all that was left was John's commanding voice. The deputy’s eyes rolled back to a sickening white, body convulsing and jerking beneath Jacob until it too stilled and eyes drifted shut, the tense muscles relaxed to a lazy rag doll posture.

 

John slumped down to the ground, letting the canteen tip from his hand and spill. He honestly didn’t care at that point, watching as Jacob rubbed his bleeding shoulder, the red stains spreading across the collar of his shirt. He let out a shaky breath as he adjusted the deputy, giving the chains a quiet glance as one of the links finally gave completely and they fell away to pool against the wood boards. “That was too damn close.” Jacob grumbled, stained fingers pressing around the deputy’s dislocated shoulder, feeling around for the joints, muscles and nerves before he reset the bones into place. There wasn’t even a twitch from the unconscious man as the soldier gathered him up into his arms, cradling the limp form to his chest. He stooped, dropping a hand to rest atop John’s head as he gave it a careful pat, not wanting to lean too far and drop the deputy. “You did a good job, John. I’m proud of ya.”

 

John covered the swell of excitement that built up in his chest with an indifferent smile, shrugging the comment and condescending touch off. It didn’t stop him from preening when Jacob turned his back to him and started to leave the room. His lips pulling into a wider grin as he revisited the remark a few more times before pushing himself to his feet to trail after the two. “So what now? Do you think the demon is gone?” He asked as they walked up a short set of steps and entered the parlor.

 

Jacob shrugged, adjusting the deputy’s limp form against his shoulder as he grunted. “Doubt it. It’s been in him too long. Killed and eaten too many people.”

 

“Wait- what?” John interrupted, stopping in his tracks as he stared after his brother’s broad back and the relaxed sleeping features of the deputy resting against the muscular shoulders. He looked almost childlike in comparison to Jacob’s larger size, the vulnerability wasn’t something he was used to seeing on the lawman. “Eaten- you’re joking, right?”

 

“Fraid not.” He grunted, carrying the man to the living room where he deposited the figure onto the couch, laying him out carefully and double checking the deputy’s shoulder. “Get me my duffel bag from the kitchen.” Jacob didn’t look up at he gave the order, answered by the quiet scuff of John’s shoes and the creak of the boards as he obeyed. He came back moments later, heaving the bag towards his brother. Jacob took it with ease, opening it up as John gave an impatient hum telling him he was expecting an explanation. Jacob sighed as he removed the first aid kit and started on wrapping the Deputy’s shoulder to keep it from slipping again. He was quiet for a minute or so as he gathered his thoughts. “When the eyes and tongues are carved out of the victims, it’s ritualistic. They’re never found, aside from the set in your fridge and if the mask theory is still holding air, the chances that the demon consumes them is high.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because the mask lacks eyes and a functioning mouth. So it supplements it with those from it’s victims. I can only assume it helps it see and speak in this world or at least **it** believes that.” Jacob gestured for John to hold the deputy’s head while he fixed the positioning of the torso, maneuvering his shoulder into a sling for the time being. When he was finished, he let the lawman rest on the couch and enlisted John’s help with tending to his bite mark. He pulled his jacket off with a wince and peeled his damp shirt off with a little assistance from John, unveiling the swell of a muscular well-tone torso rippling with taut movements. It was spattered in scars from all kinds of injuries, many of them looking border on fatal. John’s eyes scanned over the old injuries, knowing well from past experiences that these were nothing compared to the scars in his eldest brother’s mind.

 

“We need Joseph.” John blanched as he dabbed alcohol over the raw torn flesh, drawing a hiss from Jacob’s lips.

 

Jacob let out a shaky breath as he relaxed, holding the kit for John’s ease of reach. “I know but he’s checking up on Faith. It’s unfair that we left her to handle the County on her own like this.”

 

John sighed, peeling bandages from the protective plastic packaging as he dried the wound before laying the patches over top. “We’re out of our element here, Jacob.” John spoke sternly. “We need Joseph here.” The baptist stepped back after securing the bandages in place, crossing his arms as he gave his brother a chastising look.

 

It fizzled when Jacob stood up and dwarfed him, a heavy hand coming to rest on his shoulder in a firm pat. “Relax. We can handle this for now.” Jacob assured, his hand rising to ruffle John’s hair up into a mess, a genuine smile spread across Jacob’s face as he hummed. “You did good Johnny. Have faith in yourself.”

 

The childish moniker stirred those warm happy feelings inside him and this time John didn’t shove them down, letting the praise and approval of his eldest brother spill over into his expression as a fond smile grew. He tilted his head down and accepted the pat on his shoulder that followed, resting heavier as Jacob pulled him closer. It was awkward at first, since Joseph was usually the one handing out shirtless embraces. The touch of fingers over bullet holes and burns was a different but familiar sensation as John returned the hug and melted into the protective hold of his brother. His eyes closed as memories of childhood returned, of being wrapped tightly in this same embrace while their father raged downstairs. Even the slight metallic tinge in Jacob’s normally earthy and pine scent was oddly nostalgic.

 

The hold was short lived, as far as John was concerned, already craving for it to return as Jacob released him to dress himself. He procured a clean shirt from his bag and slipped it over his shoulders, leaving his jacket to rest on the chair. “You should get some rest. I’ll take first watch.” John sighed, not feeling up to debating this topic as he nodded. As he started to turn away, Jacob snagged one last pat to the head that further disheveled John’s already messy appearance. The baptist twisted to toss a scowl at his brother only to receive the goofiest and most sincere grin he’s received from the man in a long time. His eyes gleaming with brotherly pride like nothing he’s seen before, sparking a certain kind of life in a normally stone cold and stoic expression that had John giddy in his stomach once more. He turned quickly and retreated up the stairs to his sleeping quarters before Jacob could do anything else embarrassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to kudos and comment down below to let me know what you think and that you enjoyed the it. ^.^ Thank you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might sound a little off. I've been sick all day and wrote it in two separate parts at two different intervals. So hopefully it sounds alright. Enjoy!
> 
> Please leave a comment on what you think below.

Waking up feeling like death warmed over is officially now Rook’s least favorite past time, yet he failed to avoid it. Every inch of him hurt and felt unsettlingly raw, the metallic coppery tang on his tongue and the swollen dryness of his throat was nothing new but was most certainly getting old. He blinked blearily, trying to focus on his surroundings when he realized he was no longer in the locked room. He had no chains binding him but a new and uncomfortably familiar presence was nestled at his back. Broad shoulders caged him in with strong arms wrapped around his waist. His left arm felt stiff with a pinching ache reverberating within, stretching over the expanse of bone down into his back, through his bicep and up his already sore neck. Even just tensing his body made his body creak and joints grind in vivid protest.

 

Warm air ghosted across his bare neck, stirring painful shivers down his spine. The light prickle of neatly trimmed beard stubble tickled the side of his head. As he started to focus more, he noted a long pair of denim covered legs were tangled with his own in a haphazard mess. He cursed, figuring Jacob learned his lesson from the last time Rook snuck away in the night. He felt as if he could barely breath with the suffocating closeness. His head tilted to look around, drawing a wince of pain as his neck twinged in protest. A throaty scoff startled the calm of the morning, demanding Rook’s attention to find John Seed looming over the pair with a threatening sort of disapproval. The arms around Rook’s waist tightened, the body behind him tensed before stretching comfortably across the cushions. A deep breath gusted over, stirring more uncomfortable shivers out of him.

 

“Sleep well, Deputy?” John inquired from a casual distance, the tone was condescending and bitter. He had a smooth nondescript burgundy mug in his grasp. Rook swallowed hard as he watched the man raise it to his lips and sip at the earthy brew, watching the tendrils of steam rise up tauntingly. Rook could kill right now for a cup of joe. 

 

“How's your shoulder?” The low rumble in his ear caused Rook to jolt in his spot. Jacob’s voice was still heavy with sleep, bordering on a wolfish growl, husky with weariness. He tried to twist around in the soldier's grip, to face him but the action was too painful, forcing the deputy to give up and sink back against Jacob's chest. His head hung as he gave a chaste shrug. An action he immediately regretted. He pulled his knees up closer to his torso, his free hand moving to touch the damaged limb. He had to look to notice the makeshift sling made out of binding fabric. It was thin and ragged on the edges, almost like torn sheets in a way. 

 

He gave a strangled sound of surprise and moved in Jacob's lap, a small attempt to get some distance from the man. He didn't remember what happened, what they did to him while he was out but it frightened him. Just like everything else that was going on in this ridiculous hellscape of a county. The arms at his waist tightened, preventing him from escaping as he was pulled back firmly against Jacob. “Relax Deputy.” It sounded like a warning, making that fiery need to flee become much more prominent in his chest. “You dislocated it last night, trying to escape the chains. We fixed it for you.”

 

The deputy shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't the kind of person to do something like that in his sleep. At least,  not without waking up in the process. It was preposterous. He wanted to scream at the man, deem him a liar but he could hardly swallow let alone speak.  _ ‘Figures when I actually have something to say.’  _ He grumbled silently to himself, trying to wiggle out of Jacob's hold. After a moment, the soldier gave in and let him go. Rook had to catch himself to keep from falling off the edge of the couch as Jacob pushed up and stretched where he stood. “You're not going anywhere, Deputy, so you might as well sit there and be good.” Rook scowled at the man, watching him meander towards the kitchen while John sank down into the armchair. His coffee still held in his grasp as he folded his legs in a proper upper class posture. 

 

Rook found himself curled up in the corner of the couch, furthest opposite of John where they had a quiet glaring contest across the room. The more Rook moved around, the more pain his body was in, furthering his miserable state. It was only cured by a slight upside when Jacob returned with his own mug. The water canteen was in his other hand, the lid twisted off for him as he was handed the half full container. If his thirst wasn't so dire, he was half tempted to dump it on the eldest Seed in a display of defiance. Instead he licked his wounds and quietly sipped at the lukewarm contents, letting it soothe the swollen flesh of his throat and wash away the disgusting coppery taste coating his mouth. Jacob didn't attempt to reign him in and John kept his distance, allowing the deputy to have his own space to mull things over. Such as, how he was going to escape.  _ Again.  _

  
  
  
  
  


Rook’s absence had not gone unnoticed back in Fall’s End. Nick had heard the deputy’s screams that day at the marina but by the time he, Addie and several others reached the island, they couldn't find hide nor hair of him. Boomer and the deputy’s belongings had been left on the bank overlooking the fishing dock. The boat he drove over there was missing and his radio had been left on, a constant buzz of static like a beacon of eeriness. They immediately contacted the whitetails, getting the distinct feeling that Jacob had something to do with this. Sheriff Whitehorse, Dutch and Father Jerome were alerted and on the lookout as well, trying to dig up any bit of information they could on their missing deputy. 

  
  


As the days stretched on, they heard disturbing whispers involving demons and rituals. There was talk in the Peggy ranks of the brothers enacting exorcisms and performing rites to try and cleanse the deputy. Plenty of outlandish stories and tales from the woods talking about supposed witnesses to the murders and claiming Rook was wound up in the center of it all. Nick and the rest of Rook’s companions found that more then hard to believe but then again, they were facing an apocalypse worshiping religious cult on a daily basis so maybe this new string of weird wasn't too far off the mark. Still, they worried for Rook’s safety and what kind of horrors the brothers were enforcing upon him. They rallied their people and started trying to track down just where the Seeds had taken Rook, even abducting a handful of Peggies with hopes of getting information or at least the possibility of a hostage exchange. But all that changed suddenly.

 

It came late in the night just as everyone was starting to turn in for the evening. The dull and bland repetitive commercial style videos the Seed family had playing on repeat in every region all tuned in to the same station. A singular county wide broadcast that had a sole shot of the Deputy tied down in a chair, much the same as those Jacob used in his trainings. His shirt had been cut away, exposing a myriad of scars and wounds that peppered his body, new and old and all of them from fighting through Eden's Gate. His left shoulder was malformed, dislocated once again, the joint slipped out of place leaving it limp in the restraints. He was soaked in sweat, hair plastered to his forehead and lungs heaving in large gulps of air. His bottom lip was split back open again, a wound that seemed to never heal. 

 

Every person in the county was frozen, watching the one man they had pooled all their faith into was now captured by the Seeds and apparently the brothers were going to make an example of him. They watched with bated breath, noticing the Deputy’s eyes didn't quite look right. His body language wasn't right either and many came to the conclusion that they had done what they always do. Drugged him and were going to play with his head like they had for so many others. 

 

The Father made his presence known first, his voice rising just off camera. The shadows of Jacob and John lingering on the edges of the screen. A single light hanging above to illuminate the horrors to come. "This sinner will be saved. This lost soul shall no longer be a haven for demons. In the name of the Lord, I cast you out!" His voice was strong and firm, hand outstretched, palm pressed against Rook's forehead as he struggled in the restraints, Joseph's bare torso taking up a small portion of the camera view. Off screen, John's voice could be heard muttering lines of Latin. As he came closer, he sprinkled water onto the deputy's skin. In the dim lighting, it was too hard to see the red splotches rising up on sweat dampened flesh. The faint wisps of smoke curled in the air like a hazy fog as sage and other purifiers were being burned. The whole scene looked like a horrific ritual from a bad paranormal film. "Be gone demon! Your kind is not welcome here!" Joseph asserted once more.

 

The people watched, mortified as Rook's body struggled in obvious agony against the restraints. His head tipped back and eyes caught between being open and closed, fluttering in disorienting spasms. His lips parted in gasping breaths as he screamed. The brothers continued this, for several minutes. Their voices rising higher as they demanded whatever demons they believed was inside the Deputy to leave. John and Joseph's voices mixed and mingled in a dangerous litany of mantras and commands. 

 

Rook's body continued to writhe in the chair, every breath appeared to be a struggle. His nose started bleeding as his body spasmed in short convulsions, head lolling to the side in brief blackouts only to be woken back up by Joseph's hard touch and demanding words. Rook whimpered, voice breaking to hoarse broken syllables, barely able to form breathy pleas. He gasped and choked around the words, repeating 'please' and 'stop' over and over until his voice cracked into another painful scream, big fat tears trailing down his cheeks in an endless stream.

 

The people watched, unable to turn away as this played out for an hour. The brothers giving in only when Rook collapsed and couldn't be woken back up again. Joseph said a prayer over his unconscious form, painting a cross in holy water over his chest and forehead. They burned sage around him, letting the smoke rise up and swell, clouding overhead and fogging up the room. Then the video cut and replayed on a loop all over again. For three days, this followed. Each day was a different video, each filmed late at night and resuming the painful torture that plagued the Deputy. Each time he appeared with more wounds on his body then before, more bruises and cuts, more red welts and markings. 

 

By the third night, he no longer had a voice left to scream with and appeared to seizure until Jacob was forced to hold him down while they continued whatever they were doing. Rook was pale, dark bags around his eyes and looking weak as if illness had set in. His nose would bleed more often than not in the videos and his eyes looked feverish and unfocused, just as hazy as the rest of the room. The people could no longer stomach it. They avoided the broadcasts as much as possible, shaking their heads in disbelief. Some would cry for him, some would shout in anger, but many had gathered at the call, determined to help save him. They believed the broadcasts were Joseph making an example of Rook, as a sick form of psychological warfare but the response had increased the Resistances' operations, causing even more destruction and violence that forced the Seeds to act and spared Rook from a fourth night of torture.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the wait. I've been working on other Far Cry 5 fic requests. 
> 
> Here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy! Please leave a comment and kudos to let me know what you think. ^.^ 
> 
> Thank you all for the support you've given me so far.

After the third attempt at exorcising the Deputy during the broadcast, Joseph’s attention was drawn elsewhere. The people were causing even more trouble in the regions, taking more of their faithful now instead of just killing them. They appeared to have turned the tables and the flock needed reassurance so the Father returned to his compound to preach and reassure his people. To comfort them with his presence. John had to reign in his own, he had confessions to get and sinners to purify back at his bunker. Faith was still busy with her pilgrimage, pumping out one new batch of Angel’s after another and flooding the Henbane to combat the resistance. This left Jacob to oversee the Deputy’s care. It was discovered that his conditioning of the man helped combat the demon’s aggression, holding it at bay as the deputy was reduced to the perfectly obedient and willing pup the soldier made him into. It was satisfying to say the least, to know that his hold over Rook was stronger then the demon’s.

 

It didn’t stop the deputy’s own will from getting the better of the conditioning at times. He was a fighter after all. He had endured more then enough of Jacob’s training and fought against the sound of his call on more then one occasion. It wasn’t common but it proved useful in the long run. If Rook could fight Jacob’s hold over him then, in theory, he should be able to fend off the demon. The only problem was, that the deputy still didn’t believe all this was happening. It was apparent that he thought they were all making this up to get inside his head. He didn’t need to speak it for Jacob to know. It was in his body language, in the way he looked at them. In the way he flinched away from their touch or fled from them so many times. He couldn’t get away, no matter how far he ran or where he went, Jacob would always find him. He would always call him back home. On more then one occasion, Rook had attempted to hide some place inside the house. The reasoning was unknown but it reminded Jacob of a dog hiding from thunder, rushing into closets or small dark places where it felt safest.

 

Other times when he had made it outside of the house, Jacob had just followed him at a leisurely pace knowing he didn’t have the strength to run this time. He’d whistle that same old tune, watch him buckle and fall to it’s whim and submit. He’d collect him from his curled up spot on the ground or in a bush, gather him up in his arms and carry him back to the house. It was futile. Rook knew it, Jacob knew it. Even the guards knew it and so they never intervened when the deputy would attempt to flee. They knew Jacob would go and collect his pet and come right back with little incident.

 

There were a few situations where Rook had attempted to fight back, scratching and biting at the soldier until he drew blood. He left more than a few marks on Jacob’s cheek from his nails digging in and stained a few more of his shirts with blood after taking another sizable bite from his shoulder and collarbone. Jacob had scratches around his neck and across his arms as well. John and Joseph both would offer surprised and quizzical stares, inspecting the slowly battered form of their brother.

 

Though, the day the deputy gave him a black eye while trying to escape his hold had been the final straw. Taking an elbow to the face was not Jacob’s ideal outcome for the morning and despite Joseph’s warnings, he decided to put the training chair to its intended use and withdrew the music box to mull over a decent session. Afterwards, the deputy had become much more compliant and docile. Even resorting to sitting tucked up against Jacob’s chest on the couch as they napped in the afternoon sun streaming through the large windows. The strong arms wrapped around Rook’s waist kept him caged in with long legs tangled together with his. His sling was returned to him to baby his dislocated shoulder. The pain was barely tolerable with the small doses of painkiller Jacob would inject him with. He couldn’t swallow anything solid with the damage to his throat so he was reduced to a mostly soft or liquid diet to keep from starving.

 

When evening came, Jacob and John switched out shifts, allowing the soldier to go back to his region to check on how things were running. John was less than thrilled to be left with the deputy. Unlike with Jacob, he kept Rook chained up in the locked room. He didn’t have the same sway over Rook that Jacob had. He also wasn’t keen on chasing the deputy all over the Holland Valley woodlands just for the thrill of hunting prey like some barbarian.

 

John wasn’t at all fond of being left alone with the deputy, especially not after the first time things got out of hand. He knew that the chains were a futile attempt to secure a false bit of safety in his mind. The demon had been growing in strength despite their attempts, he had broken more than a few restraints and the deputy’s bones in the process of seeking out freedom. Though, John wasn’t dumb enough to persuade himself into believing what they were doing was having much of an impact. The demon had been unusually docile in Joseph’s presence, quiet even compared to other incidences. Enough so that they had to force it to respond or react using choice phrases or substances to stir it to life. It had even attempted to mask itself behind the deputy’s demeanor, using his voice and his eyes to try and plead to their humanity. To play on their consciences and stop the exorcisms.

 

It was clever to say the least and after every session, it left John feeling that painful knotting sensation of guilt in his stomach, a sickening feeling. After the third night, he had retched up the contents of his stomach in a very undignified display of weakness, only marginally appreciative that he was alone. It still didn’t make things better. Jacob was used to these sorts of things, forcing humans into atrocities with his trials, brainwashing them until they were no longer even considered people. Just fiercely wild animals, almost as mindless as Faith’s Angels. Neither of those ideals sat well with him. At least with his confessions, he was stripping people down to their rawest, bringing them to the light and cleansing them. He wasn’t tearing away at their minds and chiseling away what made them function until they were soulless shells. He was giving them back their souls. Purifying their spirits so that they may cross those gates feeling as clean and close to God as the day they were born.

 

The silence of the room and John’s thoughts were broken by the soft sounds of the deputy. It started with pained grunts and ragged breathing, drawing deep blue pools to fix on the captive, watching him squirm and shift around in the confines of the chair. His face was ghostly pale and his lips parted as if he was struggling to catch his breath. He kept trying to move his injured shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as he whimpered quietly. The chains keeping him in place appeared to be caught on the edge, spurring the baptist to move around to unhook it, maintaining a wide berth at first and only going close when he was behind the deputy. The little whimpers broke into a sharp pained gasp when the tension on the chain became a dead weight that dropped and sagged on his arm. “Apologies.” John muttered, rising back up only to freeze in place. He was only a mere couple inches from the Deputy now, face to face with the man. His head turned so teary exhausted eyes met his gaze, a red agitation cresting the corners. The deputy sniffled, a shaky breath drawing from trembling lips.

 

 _“....’m sorry.”_  John didn’t know what to say, thinking he misheard or imagined it. It was so soft, barely a whisper on the air, about as subtle as a draft in a room. A quiet lull on the wind. He swallowed thickly as it came again, even more broken and pitiful then the last. _“I’m sorry. I’ll confess. I’ll confess.”_ This time his mouth did move, ever so slightly. John felt a tight clenching in his stomach, the dreadfully familiar feeling returning. He had gone on long tangents about making the Deputy confess, to break him down until he screamed his sins to the world and repented. But this wasn’t what he imagined. He had this vision of righteous grandeur with salvation on the cusp and the lawman bleeding and broken beneath his fingertips with every atrocity and slight against their project etched into flesh. He had anxiously awaited the day when the deputy would succumb to him, to be tore down to the bare bones of his being, raw and pure and so vulnerable only to be built back up in John’s image. In the ways of the Father, to set forth on the path to the new world. It was supposed to be beautiful. It was supposed to be glorious. Now he felt- well, he wouldn’t necessarily say he felt robbed of that experience but this wasn’t what he wanted. Not what he had planned. It was far crueler and almost impure in so many ways.

 

 _“Please...no more. I’ll confess.”_ He begged, urging John to respond after a painfully long silence. He hushed the deputy, raising his hands to cup the sides of his face with gentle warmth. To reassure and calm the man, thumbs stroking the tears away from his cheeks, clearing away the troubles the escaped his bleary eyes. They were unfocused but still searching, fixed solely on John. His lips parted again but the baptist tilted his chin up, urging him into silence once more.

 

“I know you will, deputy. You’ll confess it all to me.” His own voice had taken on a softer tone, nowhere near the menace and determination it once held in past interactions. He felt the need to fix this. To right the slight that’s been had. He didn’t want to hear the man’s confession. Not like this. He wasn’t worthy of it after all of this. He didn’t _deserve_ it. “Relax, just breathe.” He wiped another tear streak away, watched the confusion twist up in the deputy’s features. The sudden crashing wave of hopelessness and disappointment. The tightness in the baptist’s chest was becoming unbearable, a twisting pain until it reached its limits, threatening to break as he watched the Deputy reflect the same despair.

 

Rook’s eyes closed, head tilting into John’s touch, seeking and desperate as a sob quaked through his form. His brows pinched with a wince of pain at the jarring movement to his shoulder but it didn’t dissuade the storm that followed. The big fat rain drops that fell from eyes that had always been so warm and determined. John didn’t like this at all but he couldn’t force himself to budge. Just as the first time the demon showed itself to them, he found himself frozen in place, fighting against his instincts. He wanted to run, knew he should. To leave the room and level his head but his instinct demanded he remain. That he sit through and watch this unfold because it was important. It was _necessary_.

 

The baptist wiped a few stray tears away from Rook’s face, his lips parted to speak only to falter as noise of gunfire ensued outside. A barrage of bullets followed by explosions. John frowned, looking between the broken Deputy before him and the door keeping the sinners out. He was conflicted, knew he had to run but he couldn’t leave the man here. He couldn’t let them take him away either and God only knew what the Resistance would do if they got a hold of them both. He gritted his teeth in frustration, hands withdrawing from Rook’s face to rest on his shoulders carefully. “We need to leave. You’re coming with me, okay?” He informed, grunting as another explosion seemed to make the whole building shake and tremble. He hissed out a curse, shaking his head as he scrambled for the keys to the chains, unlocking the set keeping the deputy bound to the chair but still leaving his hands cuffed together.

 

Rook was compliant under his touch as he urged him to his feet. He stumbled only briefly, his legs trembling from weakness as he leaned against the baptist for support. John wrapped an arm around the man’s waist and helped him towards the heavy reinforced door, giving it a peek through to see if any of the resistance had made its way down there. He was relieved to find there was an absence of gunfire in the lower levels and pushed the door open, using his hip to keep it ajar as he helped Rook through. “Come on. This way.” He guided, frowning when Rook made it only a few steps through and stopped. “What’s wrong? Deputy, we have to keep moving.” He placed a hand on the middle of his back to push him forward but the man never budged. He was stone still, a stark contrast to the unsteady stance seconds ago. What had started out as nimble as a newborn lamb was now an immovable force. A force that turned towards the baptist with eyes of blood and a twisted smile.

 

All the color in John’s face drained in that moment, he stepped back, lips parting to start the litany of Latin that was ingrained into his mind these last few days but he was cut off. The demon turned quickly, a flash of teeth and a sudden pain in the back of John’s head. It took the youngest Seed a minute to realize he had hit the floor, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling of the room. He groaned, feet shifting against the wood floors, trying to find the leverage or even just strength to move. Everything was pops of white and explosions of color peppering his vision, long shadows twisting up and cascading over him like serpent phantoms. He groaned, hearing the cackled laughter as the hellspawn closed the reinforced door, the heavy thud of the lock was a hollowed echo in the stillness. A dreadful punctuation to end John’s attempts at focusing, surrendering to the lead feeling in his limbs and the metallic tinge covering his tongue. His eyes drifted shut as the whole world trembled and quaked with explosions and carnage.


	11. Chapter 11

Rook heard the explosions, felt the room quake and tremble as the ranch was bombarded. The explosive bursts of gun shots peppering the exterior as peggies and Father Jerome’s resistance fighters were giving it back to the Seeds. Planes rushed on over head, a dogfight ensued in the skies above and radio chatter was a chaotic mess on multiple frequencies. He felt hands on his shoulders as eyes opened to view the bright light filtering through the high arched windows of the hangar. The ranch was a mess of bursts and bloodshed. Charred fuel tanks and trucks smoking from their hoods, bodies shot all to hell and one was already starting to burn from an engine fire. He groaned as the hands gripped him tightly, hauling him up to his feet by his bicep. A pained gasp shuddering through him as his damaged shoulder sang out in protest. His head tilted to rest against the shoulder adjacent to him as he sagged weakly. His knees wanting to buckle, every inch of him felt the urge to just sleep. To lie back down on the cool concrete floor and stay there. He wanted the noise and the bright lights to go away.

 

He blinked a few times, realizing someone was talking to him. Hands corrected his posture and helped ease a majority of the weight from his own two legs into their strong hold. He heard the static blaring of the radio as they caused a series of feedback pinging back and forth between the bodies. He felt himself being pulled from the hangar, guided towards an old green pick up setting off to the side, tucked on the edge of the drive. More people swarmed the area on ATVs as reinforcements were called in on both sides. “Come on Deputy.” A voice grunted in his ear, urging his feet to follow, stumbling over each other in a clumsy manner. He tried to keep up, two bodies on either side of him, one stepped ahead to cover them in the front, putting lead in bodies along the way. They were so close to freedom. To that green pick up when a light flared up, the heat of the explosive hit him before the sound did. The concussion sent all four of them flying back as the vehicle was reduced to a charred husk of parts.

 

He groaned, eyes staring up at the smoke stained sky above, his body ached all over and his lungs pulled in shaky breaths. Shadows cast over them, the sound of footsteps ground out by the high pitched ringing that filled his ears. High in the sky he watched a plane go down, the right wing shot off. The pilot ejecting themselves into a parachute and drifting down to the ground. He couldn’t focus well enough to tell who’s side they were on. It didn’t really matter anymore, he told himself. They were all tearing themselves and each other apart.

 

He felt hands on him again but these were rougher, more firm but just as mindful of his shoulder. They knew his injury was present and changed position accordingly. More figures swarmed around them, manhandling his would be rescuers and holding them at gunpoint. A flash of ginger red and teeth bared into a disapproving snarl, words being spoken that never reached his ears. Orders being barked back and forth and people rushing to fulfill them. A hand curled into his hair, fingers catching at the tousled messy locks as his head was positioned, made to meet those icy orbs. A single word was spoken, easily readable on the lips but still failing to make a sound. Jacob repeated it, giving him a curt shake before the sound came back and his senses were somewhat cognizant. He made a whimper of a sound as his shoulder was purposely squeezed now. His breath catching in his throat before the hands changed position. They gripped the ropes still keeping Rook’s wrists tied together, dragged him along beside him, tucked firmly against his side. Everything was confusing, a blur of smoke and bodies parting as they past, heading inside the ranch house.

 

They were forced to the balcony, one end left open for easy use, a gunner spot was present, with a prime spot positioned to look over the driveway. John was waiting for them, a handful of peggies posted around as the baptist babied the injury to his head. A bruise was forming on the side of his jaw, barely shadowed by the dark scruff of his beard. He looked angry, watching the deputy with predatory eyes, lips pulled up into a sneer. Rook didn’t remember what had happened. One second they were in the cellar and the next he was out in the hangar. He assumed the resistance had come in to rescue him but he was missing too much time. Had he been knocked out? Was he drugged? He certainly felt like it. He was still weak and shaky, had a hard time mustering the strength to do much of anything aside from being a human rag doll and being dragged left and right.

 

He nearly toppled over when Jacob stopped, standing on the ledge as the peggies rounded up the last of the resistance and had them standing before the eldest Seed brother as he lorded their ‘savior’ over them. As if taunting them with a failed attempt at rescue. There were shouts from the crowd below but they were quickly silenced as two dozen bodies stood stone still, watching what Jacob had up his sleeve. The tension was thick, even in the open air, smudged by the smoke and ash of earlier fires and the metallic scent of gunpowder and oil.

 

Rook started to lose his balance once more, sagging against Jacob’s side but was quickly fixed back into a more appropriate posture. “Stand up pup.” Jacob gritted through clenched teeth, the command was unusually sharp in his ear. He shivered, tensing at the touch roaming up along his back to where his shoulder and neck met. The fingers clutched at the dip until his head was tilted back and he scrunched up at the discomfort. Rook’s gaze darted towards the soldier as John moved towards them, looking more settled. No longer a disheveled upset mess. He was still all hard edges and malice under the surface, but it wasn’t as raw. The concealed wrath lurking just beneath the scarred skin and plumes of color, playing the part necessary. He had a familiar bundle of sage sticks in his hands and Jacob’s canteen. A bit of water on his fingertips and mumbled mantras of latin, John drew a cross on Rook’s forehead, handing the canteen over to a peggy as his voice increased in volume and power. It was more direct this time, more determined as he lit the sage and motioned in the Father, The Son and the Holy Spirit over Rook. He repeated the actions, wafting the smoke past his face a few different times, letting it circle his head until a dizzying numbness started to take over. Rook shook his head, fearing what was to come as that sensation spread across his mind. He felt the shadows rising as he struggled against Jacob’s hold. Lips parting in a weak rasp, a single word falling past in a gruff broken tone of unuse. “.. _.No…_ ”

 

Jacob reaffirmed his grip on Rook’s shoulder as he hushed his protests. “Just give in pup.” He murmured into his ear, feeling the deputy sink against his chest, he body going slack for several seconds. There was a strangled sound from his throat, his eyes rolling back into his head, a white void that fluttered between the red hues and Rook’s natural color. The demon didn’t want to be ousted. It was fighting, so as not to be forced out in the open. Rook’s body shuddered, convulsing in Jacob’s grip but the soldier remained firm and John continued with the sage.

 

“I command you to show yourself, demon!” He proclaimed, his voice hard and unwavering. There was silence in the crowd, a horrified shock traveling across the people as they watched the display. It was just as horrific in person as it was on those disturbing broadcasts. The broken sounds leaving their mute companion’s form were heart stopping, like ice in their veins. They were conflicted between the need to intervene and being too afraid to get involved. As the trembling ceased, Rook stiffened. His body straightening up in Jacob’s hold as a malicious smile twisted his peaceful features. Eyes as red as blood glinted in the light of day, scanning over the people before it. It felt as if a sudden chill had settled over them, like the temperature had dropped substantially. The smoke tinging the sky added the illusion of storm clouds as the wind picked up and carried it over them, casting foreboding shadows over the people.

 

The distorted cackling followed in sudden amusement as John raised the sage towards the being. It seemed unfazed by the display, giving the smoke a curt blow with little interest. John’s lips tilted up in a smirk as he handed the sage to a nearby peggy and replaced it with the canteen of water. He gave the canteen a slow shake, knowing well the amount within but it was for extra effect as the demon was informed of the full container of holy water. “You promised me a confession.” John growled, stepping closer as he popped the cap on the container and covered the edge with his thumb. He splashed the water onto the demon’s face and watched the red splotches rise to the surface as the demon hissed out. It writhed in Jacob’s grasp but the soldier wasn’t going to give any. He locked the beast in place, no longer mindful of his pet’s damaged shoulder and inflicting a bit more pain in the process to spur the creature on. The shrill sounds it emitted were far from human, causing the frightened murmurs in the crowd.

 

“This is not the deputy you know!” John announced, his hands gesturing out towards the man as he turned to address the crowd. “This is a demon. A vile beast conjured from sin and deceit. It has infected the deputy. It has stolen their form and oppresses the soul within. Do not let yourselves be tricked by it’s proclamations of innocence.” John turned and doused another few shakes of the water onto the creature. It hissed through clenched teeth, spitting and sputtering vicious inhuman words his direction. A garbled mess of language no living thing should know. It’s tongue was barbed and malicious, blood red eyes fixed solely on the baptist, spitting promises with John’s name mingling between those butchered words.

 

John answered it with an air of calm, the same he brings into a confession or a cleansing. A hand in their hair, a gentle touch as he shakes his head, tendrils of disappointment as he clicks his tongue. The demon bares its teeth at him, a cheshire grin from hell before the baptist poured more of the water on the demon’s forehead, watching the stifled stream part over his face into slithering tendrils of red streams. He gained satisfaction as the beast contorted in pain, as the red wounds spread across the body. It didn’t matter if this body belonged to another. Someone who was innocent in their deeds. A soul that was clean and pure. Right now, only darkness dwelled on the surface and it needed to be punished.

 

John turned back to the people after a moment, the beast heaving and hissing at him. It let out low watery growls and snapped it’s teeth at his touch. Whatever true form the creature had, it was nothing now, crammed into the weak skin suit of a golden hearted deputy just trying to do the right thing. No fangs or claws or whatever gruesome appendages this hell spawn was birthed with. It was as dangerous as a declawed kitten and that only amused John more. “Leave him with us and we will return the deputy to his rightful place. He will be freed from this sin and you all can continue your intentions, whatever they may be.” There was conflict in the faces of the people. They looked around at each other then leveled their stares of horror on the beast that once was their friend. “I promise you all that we will save him. Trust in the Father.”

 

The silence carried on before the people gave in and succumbed to the request. Their feelings secured when the beast scoffed, a deep rumble sent towards John who answered with the shake of the canteen. It turned it’s head away to avoid the attack, stirring an amused laugh in Jacob’s throat. The peggies released the resistance fighters and they were escorted down the drive, then allowed to carry on their way. No double crosses, no shooting or trying to convert them. They were sent back to Fall’s End to spread the word. To tell the rest of the people what they witnessed. To spread the will of the Father.

 

John and Jacob started the long and tiring task of trying to get the demon back in the proverbial box and get their deputy back to the conscious world. It was a little more successful as the demon gave after a bit of _persuasive_ coaxing. Rook was more apprehensive and afraid of the brothers then before. More closed off and looking worse for wear. He was exhausted, which was understandable. He spent the following hours sicker then all hell, hunched over the toilet in the upstairs bedroom switching up between dry heaving like a drunken college student at a sorority party and lying curled up on the floor, his body pressed into the cool porcelain of the fixtures around him. A handful of towels were bunched up and laid out, like some sort of makeshift nest. His injured arm was in a sling once again, compliments of Jacob with an extra dose of pain relief.

 

“When was the last time you ate?” Jacob asked softly, entering the bathroom where his pup was curled up and drifting between sleep and the real world. He had dark smudges under his eyes from exhaustion, his skin more pale then was natural and coated in an uncomfortable layer of sweat, now chilled from the environment around him. The soldier knew this was taking its toll and eventually it would kill the deputy if it wasn’t rectified soon. “Come on pup. Sit up.” Jacob directed, his voice softer then was normal but then again, the circumstances were different. It wasn’t an issue of cull the herd or some other trial of weakness. This was hell, neatly wrapped up and tied inside of a package of chaos and misery. No amount of physical strength would save him. His mental strength was something else entirely if he was able to keep the demon back like previous displays. Especially when it’s considered Rook has no idea any of this was real.

 

Jacob would have to change that soon. To make it work. So that this exorcism will succeed and they could get this all done and over with as quickly as possible without any unnecessary deaths in the process. He nudged the deputy carefully with the back of his hand. A bowl of soup was in one hand, a piece of bread laid across the rim, balanced carefully as he set it on the edge of the counter and helped the deputy into position with his injury. Rook was still drowsy, slinking back against the cabinets before Jacob rested the bowl in his lap. “Come on. You need to eat pup.” He directed. Rook merely gazed down at the bowl. He didn’t move, giving a small sniffle as his eyes drifted. He shook his head slowly, pushing the bowl back towards Jacob but the soldier refused to accept it. He fixed the deputy’s hand so he was holding it in his grasp, ensuring it wouldn’t spill as he inspected the gaunt worn out features. “What is it?”

 

Another sniffle and a single tear drop fell, trailing down the red markings on his face. They were still warm, like a serpentine sunburn, a shaky breath worked out of his throat as he shifted slightly. The silence was surprisingly reassuring to Jacob, able to read the expressive features of the deputy better than that twisted mask the demon wore. This reassured him as to who he was facing. Who was looking him in the eyes right this moment. He raised a hand, fingers pausing as the deputy flinched away but essentially had nowhere to run. He wiped the tear away, erasing the evidence of it’s descent. His fingers dropped down to hook under the deputy’s chin as he demanded his attention. His icy blue orbs boring into the tired eyes of his pet, the familiar pools welling up with irritation as Rook fought off the conflicting frustrating feelings inside him. “You’re not weak.” Jacob said firmly. “You’re strong and you will fight this or else it will cull you. Understand pup?”

 

Rook answered with a very slow nod, his gaze never wavering from Jacob’s, not until the hand dropped from his chin and freed him from the restrictive hold. The soldier’s fingers cupped over the dish in Rook’s hand, giving it a light nudge and adjusting it so it was raised to just before his lips. He made certain Rook had a good grip on it before he withdrew his hands. “Now eat.” It was a delayed response but Rook eventually did, quietly as he does all things. He let the bread sit in the broth to soften up and ate the pieces carefully, working them past his raw and damaged throat with a wince. Jacob smiled, something far more genuine then the deputy was used to seeing. A flash of white teeth and a low rumble of approval. Rook flinched slightly before relaxing, feeling the strong fingers in his hair, a gentle pet from the larger man as he continued to obey.


End file.
